


the devil wears gucci

by baileyisbest



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Devil Wears Prada, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, M/M, baekhyun as Jongin's Magical Fairy Godmother™, kris as World's Worst Boss™, lmk in the comments, someone pls help jongin, why in the world did i write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 03:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14228094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baileyisbest/pseuds/baileyisbest
Summary: "Jongin is twenty-four years old, still young, still single, still fresh with hopes and dreams, and as of ten minutes ago, totally unemployed."





	the devil wears gucci

Jongin is twenty-four years old, still young, still single, still fresh with hopes and dreams, and as of ten minutes ago, totally unemployed.

It would have happened sooner or later, he thinks. He certainly didn’t make the best impression on Time magazine, six months ago, sliding into his interview eight minutes late and looking barely presentable with his casual sneakers and resume that had been scraped together the night before (he had been going through kind of a rough patch, he’ll admit). They’d taken him anyways and Jongin thought it might last at least a year or two. Clearly, his boss had something else in mind. Correction: his former boss.

The average age of the publication’s target audience is a good ten to twenty years above Jongin’s actual age and so was everyone else who worked there - experienced, seasoned, and well-versed in grown-up topics like welfare and elections. Politics and finance aren’t really Jongin’s forte; he’s always been more of a social issues guy and god knows there’s enough of those around. He’s honestly not surprised he got cut.

So now Jongin finds himself jobless and miserable, trudging back to the subway so he can go to his apartment and marinate in his sadness. He holds tight onto his Swiss Gear backpack, where everything from his former work desk has been shoved into. It’s not much, just a handful of folders, his Mac, and an arsenal of pens stuffed into a pocket that was probably ready to burst. Jongin has always been more comfortable with his laptop, preferring to do his work there. When he still had work, anyways.

Jongin steps onto the next subway car as the tram pulls up, shivering from the underground draft. All around him are nannies and stay-home mothers and young children, the only kind of people who would be out at this time of day. He feels so incredibly alone right now.

 _Time to tell Minseok that I can’t make rent this month_ , he thinks.

  


Jongin calls Minseok his roommate but truthfully speaking, Minseok is just a really nice, older family friend who owns a sick ass bachelor pad and is kind enough to let Jongin crash in the guest bedroom at a severely discounted price. It’s a really nice place, south-facing windows and huge ceilings. Minseok doesn’t really care that Jongin is basically free-loading here and if anything, he seems to enjoy having a roommate. Jongin wonders how he got so lucky.

Minseok is smart, having chosen a decent major in college (finance), but maybe not that smart because investment banking seems kind of awful. He comes home late in evening, always grumbling about something new, whether it be a finicky client or his asshole coworkers, but hey - at least he gets to roll around in fat stacks of cash. Jongin would kill for just a quarter of that salary.

“Minseok, I’m so sorry,” Jongin mumbles, burying his face into his arms. His cheek smooshes against the cool granite of Minseok’s kitchen island and maybe if he tries really hard, he can become one with the table and not have to live anymore.

“Are you doing that thing where you wish you were a piece of furniture?” Minseok asks, abandoning his station at the chopping board and heading across the kitchen so he can look at Jongin carefully. “Do you need help?”

“I’m not in a good place right now,” Jongin groans, getting off his seat so he can walk to the freezer.

Minseok gives him an intense side eye as his hands fly to the secret stash of Ben & Jerry’s hidden behind the icemaker. Then he wrestles a wooden cooking spoon out of the silverware drawer and sits down on the floor of the kitchen, dealing with his joblessness in the same way he deals with his other problems: stress eating. Jongin attacks Moose Tracks with the spoon and shoves a scoop into his mouth.

“Please stop eating your feelings,” Minseok pleads. “It’s not going to solve anything. You’re going to gain weight.”

“I don’t care anymore,” Jongin hisses. He uncaps the lid to Half-Baked before consuming that as well.

“But Jongin, that one is my favorite.”

“Minseok,” Jongin mumbles through mouthfuls of frozen dairy. “Do you hate me?”

Minseok wipes his hands down on his apron and squats so he’s level to where Jongin is sitting on the floor.

“No, I don’t hate you.”

“Are you going to kick me out?”

“No, I’m not going to kick you out.”

“Even if I can’t make rent this month?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Jongin looks up at him, pouting. “What about next month?”

“That’s pushing it a little.” Minseok laughs, ruffling Jongin’s hair. “Please get a job.”

  


His wallet definitely can’t handle it, but Jongin still lets himself be talked into joining his friends for Tuesday night drinks at the trendy bar they always frequent.

“This is on me,” Kyungsoo says, sliding over a vodka cranberry.

Yixing places another in front of him. “And this one is on _me_.”

“Thanks,” Jongin mumbles, taking a long pull from the straw of the first drink. “But I’m going to need at least seven more of these weak bitches before I can even start to forget how shitty my life is.”

Kyungsoo is an old childhood friend who he reconnected with at New York University and Yixing was captain of the dance crew that Jongin joined during his sophomore year. They’ve both seen Jongin through some of his best and worst and this, Jongin thinks, has got to be a new low they’re witnessing.

“Come to my next master class,” Yixing suggests, nudging him on the shoulder. “Dancing always cheers you up.”

“I’m too depressed to dance,” Jongin mopes, wishing the floor could swallow him up so he wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore. Floors are never unemployed, right? People just walk all over them and hey - Jongin was great at letting people do that to him at his old job. He would make a great floor.

“Are you trying to become furniture again?” Kyungsoo asks. “Minseok tells me you’ve been doing that a lot lately. He’s worried about you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jongin states. “I’ve just lost my will to live and simply believe that becoming an inanimate object would make things a lot easier on all of us.”

Yixing just laughs. “If only the girls who scream when they see you in the studio knew that this is what you’re really like.”

Jongin rolls his eyes because Yixing is in no position to say anything right now. The guy’s got it made, having trained with some of the best dancers in the country, touring and choreographing all over world. Last year, Yixing opened a dance studio on the north end of Broadway and business has been booming ever since doors opened.

“Don’t worry,” Kyungsoo reassures. “Just because Yixing and I found success so early in our lives doesn’t mean you won’t get there eventually. Maybe sometime in the next hundred years, you might make it too.”

Jongin’s forehead hits the table with a _thunk_ and he groans.

“Have you tried looking outside of New York?” Kyungsoo asks, taking a sip from his own drink.

“I...I don’t want to leave this city.” Jongin looks down, fidgeting with his hands. “I don’t think I’ll survive.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Yes, you will. You need to stop being so stubborn about these things. You’re always ready to do whatever it takes, but only on your own terms. Stop that.”

“If you’re really that anxious, then come to the studio for a bit.” Yixing turns to Jongin earnestly. “You can work at the front desk and not feel so bad about staying home all day while you look for a real job. We’re short on people, anyways.”

“Really?” Jongin says. “I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not. And besides- “ Yixing shoots him a wink. “ -the ladies love to see you. You’ll bring in tons of business.”

  


The funny thing about job searching, Jongin thinks, is that it’s hard, tedious, and worst of all, boring. That’s it - that’s the punchline. It’s boring and it sucks.

Kyungsoo had mentioned leaving New York but truthfully - he can’t do that. Manhattan is where his home and heart have been for the last six years. Moving away would be like ripping out a piece of his identity. No matter what happens, he won’t leave.

The call that finally saves Jongin’s life isn’t a phone interview, or even a callback. It’s Kyungsoo.

“Jongin,” he says, voice crackling to life over the phone.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Jongin says, idly flipping through classifieds in the newspaper. _Newspaper_ \- that’s how desperate he is. He’s reading the goddamn newspaper.

Kyungsoo clears his throat before he speaks. “A position opened up at work today and I think you might be able to get it.”

That piques his interest immediately. He stands up, scouring around for a pen and paper. “What is it?” he asks. “How do I apply? What do I need to do?”

“Listen carefully,” Kyungsoo says. “These are the details.”

Jongin gets his pen in position, ready to write.

“I’m listening.”

  


Kyungsoo works for Vogue magazine. He isn’t some designer, a stylist, or even a model (he’d have to grow at least five more inches for that to happen). He’s an editor - junior editor, to be precise, and Jongin has heard enough about Junmyeon, Kyungsoo’s superior, to assume that working at Vogue isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Kyungsoo is not exactly a fashion and beauty guy but the magazine does have a small travel section, and that’s what Kyungsoo does: he writes about the best dives and finest dining that New York has to offer. Jongin figures that the skinny girls flipping through Vogue do get hungry sometimes and when they do, they can just look at Kyungsoo’s pictures and feel full.

“Don’t get comfortable. Junmyeon is a pure exception,” Kyungsoo explains over an expensive salad at the cafe he frequents. “You won’t be so lucky.”

“Exception? What do you mean?” Jongin fidgets with his napkin.

“Jongin, it’s _Vogue_. I certainly hope you’re not expecting to work with normal people.” Kyungsoo’s tone grits out a weariness that indicates he’s dealt with more than his fair share of eccentric crowds.

“What about the actual job? Will I be okay?”

Kyungsoo stays silent for moment, which means he’s thinking. Which means he’s hiding something.

“It’s manageable,” he finally says, nodding like he’s not only trying to convince Jongin, but also himself. “Executive assistant to the editor-in-chief. Nothing you can’t handle.”

“Are you sure?” Jongin picks through his ravioli distractedly. It was fourteen dollars and does not taste very good. Good thing Kyungsoo is paying.

“I’m sure,” Kyungsoo says. “But there is one thing.”

“What?” Here it comes, the catch that’s going to ruin the entire thing for Jongin.

“The guy you’d be working for isn’t exactly...the easiest to deal with.”

“Oh, who is it?” Jongin asks curiously.

“Kris Wu.”

“Kris Wu,” Jongin repeats. He’s never heard of him before.

“Trust me,” Kyungsoo assures. “You’ll be fine. You just need to be prepared.”

Of course Jongin trusts him. The guy might be missing an emotional perceptor or two but he’s always tried his best to look out for Jongin. Kyungsoo would never knowingly steer him in the wrong direction.

It’s not the _trust me_ that worries Jongin, it’s the _be prepared_.

  


Jongin wakes up the day of his interview a little scared, kind of nervous, and really excited. He might soon work for a women’s fashion magazine and while Jongin is not a woman nor does he know anything about fashion, he is twenty-four years old. Vogue sounds like it’s geared toward a younger crowd than Time is - at least it’s a step in the right direction, right?

When Jongin had asked Kyungsoo what he should wear, his friend had just scoffed at him.

“It’s a fashion publication,” Kyungsoo said. “What do you think you should wear?”

That answer had clarified absolutely nothing for Jongin but it should be fine, right? He could do this. It’s not like he’s completely inexperienced in the publishing industry.

Is looking stylish a prerequisite? Probably, since it’s Vogue? Better wear his good pants then, the pair that didn’t have tomato sauce stains down the left leg. He digs out the best dress shirt he owns from the back of the closet, the trusty white one that’s gotten him through at least a couple of press conferences, and slips on a pair of leather loafers. Jongin checks himself out in the mirror for a moment. Was this good? He doesn’t know how fashion works but keeping it simple can’t go wrong. This should be fine...probably.

Vogue’s New York branch looks like any other office complex, a steel palace of cubicles and glass and little else to set it apart other than the signage. The interior, however, is warm and comforting, stylishly composed and clearly left with a woman’s touch.

Kyungsoo meets him in the lobby, directing him toward the elevator. He scans his ID card before the doors slide open. There’s a mirror on the far end of the enclosure and Jongin takes the time to fix his hair.

“Why did you ask me to come so early?” he asks, adjusting his part. “My interview isn’t for another hour.”

“Don’t question it. You’ll thank me later.” Kyungsoo’s deadpan expression gives away nothing, which means he’s not inviting questions. Jongin doesn’t ask any.

When the elevator doors open again, they step out into a reception area that leads toward a larger office space. Panelling the walls are all framed prints of past Vogue covers and Jongin feels unsettled. It’s kind of hard to keep his focus when there’s four different versions of Lady Gaga staring him down. He clutches his padfolio closer to his chest.

Kyungsoo leads them through cubicles and open desk areas, no one bothering to look up as they walk past. They round the corner to stop at a bullpen office, two large desks flanking a double door that’s closed shut. Jongin guesses that’s Kris’ office.

One desk is empty while the other is occupied by a small man sporting horn-rimmed glasses and impeccable cheekbones. He leans back in his seat, feet propped up on his desk, and gives Jongin a solid once-over. His eyes drag down Jongin’s body, alarmingly slow, and he chews his gum loudly, blowing it into a sizable pink balloon before it breaks with a loud _pop_!

“What,” he says, speech punctuated by each snap of his gum.

“Hello, Jongdae. This is Jongin,” Kyungsoo introduces, unfazed. “He’s here for the new assistant position.”

“We can take him now, I guess.” Jongdae clacks away on his keyboard, loud and obnoxious in a way that would have definitely gotten told off in Jongin’s old office.

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says. “I’ll be heading down to Editorial, then. Bye, Jongin.” He turns around and walks briskly in the opposite direction.

Jongin panics. Kyungsoo is gone and he no longer has a safety anchor to cling on to. Who is this man that he has been left with? God, what was he thinking? Coming here, thinking he could land this job, at this company he knew nothing about. He’s gonna get ripped to shreds.

Jongdae redirects his gaze to Jongin, glancing him up and down again.

Jongin shuffles nervously. “So, uh...when does the interview start?”

“Now,” Jongdae says sharply. “It starts now.” His face suddenly turns serious and he narrows his eyes into little slits. “Take a seat.”

Jongin sits down on the nearby sofa, a bright orange thing that is equal parts lumpy and avant-garde.

“Give me your resume.”

Jongin reaches into his padfolio and hands over the flimsy sheet of paper, trying his best to keep his fingers from shaking.

“Thanks,” Jongdae quips, seizing the paper. His eyes dart through the document like a hungry vulture.

Jongin gulps.

“Well, at least you’re not completely stupid. But you’re a journalist.”

“Yes,” Jongin says slowly. “Is that a problem?”

“It could be. Do you know anything about fashion?”

Jongin opens his mouth but nothing comes out. How is he supposed to answer that?

“Okay, I guess not.” Jongdae sighs dramatically. “Anyways, what do you think- ”

Suddenly, a young man wearing all black busts onto the scene. He’s got expertly drawn eyeliner and he’s carrying an enormous bin of women’s shoes.

“CODE RED,” he shouts, breathless. “Kris is on his way **right now**.”

“ _What_ ,” Jongdae says. “His flight isn’t supposed to get in for another three hours.”

“Didn’t you hear? He bumped into Alexander Wang at the banquet gala and after the two caught up, Alex offered to take Kris back in his PRIVATE JET and now Kris is in New York and did I mention that **he’s on his way right now**.”

“Fuck me sideways!” Jongdae immediately stands up. “Baekhyun, can you please get- “

“NO, Jongdae. You’re going to have to deal with this by yourself, I haven’t even gotten Jessica her morning latte yet!” The man scurries off in the other direction.

“ _Shit_ ,” Jongdae says. “Everybody, man your stations!” Suddenly, the entire office goes up into chaos, men and women scuttling around in a crazy frenzy.

Jongin watches dumbfoundedly as Jongdae bursts through the closed double doors, revealing a huge office that affords a stunning view of Manhattan. Sunlight floods into the room and Jongdae dashes to the mini-fridge under the desk, extracting and uncapping a glass bottle of sparkling water, which he places gingerly onto Kris’ desk, but not without slipping a coaster under it first.

An editorial assistant runs by. “Jongdae, here!” she yells. In an impressive display of reflexes, Jongdae turns and catches two pens, which he arranges meticulously onto Kris’ desk.

“Where the hell is Junmyeon,” he shrieks, looking around frantically. “I need those periodicals, NOW.”

The elevator suddenly dings and a disheveled man runs out, carrying a stack of magazines in his hands. “I got the periodicals!” he shouts. That must be Kyungsoo’s boss.

“Fucking finally.” Jongdae snatches them from his hands and starts lining them up carefully onto Kris’ desk.

Jongin arranges himself uncomfortably in his seat, watching everything unfold before him. The eyeliner guy shows up again, this time with an armful of purses. “Kris is in the elevator! I repeat, **Kris is in the elevator**. We have thirty seconds!”

A young lady passes by, almost tripping over her stilettos as she rolls a clothing rack into Kris’ office and runs out just as quickly. People are everywhere, scrambling to get things into place. A publication executive busies himself with a lint roller, running it hurriedly across his blazer, and an intern zips around the aisles, handing everyone breath mints.

Jongdae sprints back to his desk and looks at Jongin with wide eyes.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re still here.”

The elevator dings ominously.

“Alright, you just stay here and be quiet,” he hisses. “Maybe Kris won’t notice.”

Jongin does as he’s told and silently watches Jongdae run up to the elevator.

The doors open to reveal the man himself, in all his perfected glory, Kris Wu. He’s gorgeous, beautiful and striking in a way that Jongin never knew people could be. His legs go on for miles (an innocent observation on Jongin’s end) and everything about him is astonishing, from his slicked silver hair to the tight leather pants and Jongin counts six- no, _seven_ piercings.

“Good morning, Kris. I just- ” Jongdae begins. Kris takes off his Burberry trench and tosses it carelessly in Jongdae’s general direction, not even acknowledging his assistant. Jongdae catches it with ease, handing it off to an intern before scurrying back to Kris’ side.

“I just confirmed that your conference with Vogue China is at ten. Seohyun called this morning about getting lunch - which we’ve made reservations for already, but feel free to cancel. There’s a gallery opening at two, which we’ve cleared your schedule for, and at three-fifteen, you have a meeting with Jessica to discuss the details of the London shoot with Tiffany Young- _oh_ , and Taeyeon also called, she wants to come in tomorrow to talk about the- “

Kris holds a hand up. Jongdae immediately stops talking.

“What is that?” Kris asks, turning to look at Jongin.

Jongin’s eyes widen in fear. He desperately tries to shrink into the uncomfortable sofa and become one with the cushions. It doesn’t work.

(Huh, maybe he does have a furniture problem.)

“Well,” Jongdae starts. “Remember eight days ago, when Johnny combusted in the middle of the office in a mental breakdown and somehow, on some god-gifted miracle, you’ve managed to last over a week with only one personal assistant?”

Kris’ expression remains neutral. “Who is Johnny?”

“Oh, right. Silly me.” Jongdae laughs nervously. “You never bothered to learn his name.”

Jongin is torn between feeling shocked or horrified.

“Is something funny?” Kris says, looking at his assistant sharply. “Answer my question.”

“Right.” Jongdae composes himself quickly. “This is the prospective replacement for your next assistant, he still needs to be pre-interviewed before- “

“Don’t bother,” Kris says. “I can take him right now. While I’m doing that, you can go through Luna’s fabric swatches and pick out the summer yellows.”

Jongdae blanches. “All three-hundred of her swatches?”

“Yes, all three-hundred. If you would be so kind as to take some time out of your busy schedule and actually do the job I’m paying you to do.”

“Yes, of course,” Jongdae says, scurrying off to find whoever Luna is.

Kris turns to Jongin.

“Follow me.”

  


Kris casually strolls into his office, sliding into his seat like he’s the only occupant it’s ever had and ever will have. He navigates his desk like he’s returned home from a long day at work, flipping through periodicals and idly writing memos onto his notepad. He belongs here, completely and wholly, just as much a part of this room as the white walls or the huge windows. A natural fixture within it all.

Jongin has never seen anything so terrifying and admirable. People could probably work their entire lives in this office and not grow into it as well as Kris has.

“Why are you here?” Kris says, sorting through his papers indifferently.

“My name is Jongin Kim and I am looking for- “

“Why are you here?” Kris repeats, impatient this time.

“I think that I have the skills necessary to- “

“ _Why are you here?_ ”

“Because I’m currently out of a job and a friend of mine passed my resume to your administration,” Jongin blurts. “I’m hoping to become your new executive assistant.”

Kris finally looks satisfied. “Do you read Vogue? Don’t lie.”

“I- um, well. No.”

“And are you interested in fashion?”

“No, sir.”

Kris merely raises an eyebrow. He picks up Jongin’s resume from his desk, glancing at it.

“Managing editor at the Washington Square News,” he observes.

“Yes, that’s the independent student newspaper of my alma mater, New York University- ”

Kris remains silent, which prompts Jongin to continue.

“ -and I was also news editor for the Wall Street Journal, where I published a series of articles about the shifting polarity of-”

“Alright.” Kris sets Jongin’s resume aside and returns to his work. “I think we’re done over here.”

Jongin is shocked into silence, nervousness swirling in his stomach. Okay, so he doesn’t know anything about working here. And Kris is terrifying. He’s clearly not cut out for this, maybe he should just excuse himself and exit the room and go back home and-

“Why are you still here?” Kris’ eyes don’t even leave his papers.

Jongin clenches his fists. There’s just something about Kris’ dismissiveness that angers Jongin, makes him feel infuriated in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“Okay, _look_ ,” Jongin starts. “I might not know everything about fashion and I might not be the perfect candidate, but I studied hard in school and I’m smart and resourceful and-”

Kris finally looks up.

“ -I’ll do whatever it takes to do what needs to be done.”

Seconds of silence pass, dragging on painfully.

“Are you finished?” Kris says, his face still and statuesque.

“Yes, I’m finished,” Jongin deflates. “That’s all I had to say. Thank you, bye.”

And then he leaves.

  


“It was awful.” Jongin sinks into his seat dejectedly. “I basically looked like a complete idiot in front of one of the most powerful figures in the publishing world.”

They’re at the bar again, no drinks yet, and upon his entrance, his friends had demanded an immediate recount of today’s events.

“I _told you_ to be prepared.” Kyungsoo looks completely unsurprised.

“Honestly, Kyungsoo, nothing could have prepared me for that interview.” Jongin thinks back to the way Kris had looked at him, regarding him like he was lower than dirt. To Kris, he didn’t even exist.

“Wouldn't it be funny if you actually got the job?” Yixing laughs. _It would be_ , Jongin thinks, resigning himself to accepting another week of desk duty at the studio.

“They’ll probably get back to you tonight or tomorrow,” Kyungsoo informs. “They’re very fast.”

As if on cue, Jongin’s phone rings. It’s an unknown number.

“Um, _hello_?” Jongin says, cupping the receiver in hopes of blocking out the bar’s loud music.

 _“I don’t know how, or why, but on some miracle from God and Buddha and Allah combined, Kris decided to hire you_.”

“I’m sorry - who is this?” From across the table, Kyungsoo and Yixing both raise their eyebrows.

_“It’s Jongdae, Kris’ first executive assistant. And starting from tomorrow, you’ll be his second.”_

Jongin’s jaw drops to the floor. No way.

“ _I’ll see you then, partner. Don’t be late.”_

And then the line goes dead

 

-

 

At the instruction of Kyungsoo, Jongin shows up to work the next day at half past eight.

_(“Trust me, Jongin. When they say nine, they mean eight-thirty.”_

_“Is there some kind of fashion time zone thing going on here that I’m not getting?”_

_Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”)_

He sits down at his desk, barely enjoying a few seconds of silence, when Jongdae struts in through the elevator, man-bag perched in the crook of one arm, Starbucks latte held in the other.

“Oh, geez,” he says, giving Jongin another one of his shameless onceovers. “I didn’t realize it was Halloween today.”

Jongin splutters. “What?”

“What are you supposed to be? Let me guess, the bastard child that comes out when K-Mart bangs the clearance section of Kohl’s? Really scary, Jongin. I’m shaking in my Louboutins.”

“What are you talking about?” Jongin says, greatly offended. He’s wearing his favorite flannel and a pair of black jeans that he _knows_ makes his ass look good. It’s a reliable combo that always gets the girls going when he visits the dance studio and what confuses him even more is that Jongdae is also sporting green flannel and black pants. “You’re practically wearing the same thing!”

“Excuse me, this is an exclusive Ralph Lauren cashmere-wool blend,” Jongdae says, dragging a sensual hand down his torso. “I look like I’m about to have a _great_ day at work while you look like someone who thinks it’s acceptable to drive tractors on the highway.”

“But I love this shirt,” Jongin mutters, rubbing the fabric of the hem between his fingers. It’s soft and comforting and no amount of mockery can ever make him hate it.

“Whatever,” Jongdae says, waving a flippant hand. “Kris gets here in forty-five minutes, which is the exact amount of time I have to explain your whole job to you. Follow me.”

Jongdae leads him through the office, introducing Jongin to everyone along the way.

“This is Luna, over from Accessories. And Yuri is in charge of Fitness & Beauty.”

Two beautiful women wave in their direction. Jongdae rounds the corner to another set of cubicles.

“Anything that has to do with hair, you can come to Wendy, and- _ah_. Hello, Chanyeol.”

They stop at a large table scattered with papers and pencils and other miscellaneous office supplies. Piles of photo prints sit haphazardly on the side. A long-limbed man sits there, his dark hair cropped short.

“Hey, Jongdae,” he says in a voice that is at least twenty years beyond his face. His baritone sends Jongin reeling in confusion because someone who looks like _this_ should definitely not sound like _that_.

“Chanyeol is our director of photography,” Jongdae explains. “Also, if he ever asks you to model for his ‘independent projects’, I suggest that you say no.”

“Hey!” Chanyeol protests. “Baekhyun really liked the way his turned out.”

“The way what turned out?” someone asks. Jongin turns around.

It’s the eyeliner guy from yesterday, the one who warned Jongdae about Kris’ arrival. He’s rocking the same all-black aesthetic that he did the day before, a turtleneck and ripped jeans tucked under an oversized bomber.

“Go away, Baekhyun,” Jongdae hisses. “Begone, witch!”

He looks to Jongin. “If you ever see this guy, turn around and walk the other direction. And if he ever asks you to get coffee for him - _don’t_ do it.”

“Jongdae, I’m hurt.” Baekhyun pouts overdramatically. “Jessica needs her caffeine and it’s unfair that Kris gets _two_ assistants while I’m stuck running around by myself.”

“Jongin’s priority will be _Kris_ , not Jessica. You once said that the single most important thing you do is give Jessica her coffee - stop trying to steal my new hires!”

“I can’t believe you just said that out loud, I told you that in confidence!”

Jongdae deadpans. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Ugh!” Baekhyun shifts his attention to Jongin.

“I’m Baekhyun, by the way,” he says, beaming. “Jessica’s executive assistant.”

Jongin is barely following this conversation. “Who’s Jessica?” he asks.

“Did someone say my name?”

A woman steps into the office, turning everyone’s heads. She’s elegant, alluring, and absolutely beautiful, fully put together from her delicate face down to her pointed heels. She’s wearing a chic, pink work dress and her expression is downright charming. Jongin stares, stupefied.

“And here she is.” Baekhyun gestures lovingly. “The one and only.”

“I’m Jessica,” she greets, giving Jongin a firm handshake. “The creative director at Vogue. You must be Kris’ new assistant.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Jongin says, still dazed out of his mind. He may not be straight but Jessica is the prettiest girl he’s ever met and next to her, his entire existence is trash. He looks down at the hand she just shook. He’s never going to wash it.

Jessica looks at him for a moment, taking in his entire outfit. “You’ve got spunk,” she says, patting him on the head. “It’s cute. I look forward to seeing what you can do. Welcome to Vogue, sweetie.”

Jongin flushes.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough.” Jongdae intercepts the reverie, grabbing Jongin’s arm. “Everyone, back to your stations. We have another twenty minutes before Kris shows up.”

He drags Jongin by the elbow back to their desks. Reaching into the cabinet of his drawer, Jongdae produces a piece of paper, which he slaps onto Jongin’s chest. It’s a list.

“I’m about to tell you everything you need to know, but in case you forget, I made you a checklist. Other than answering the phone, our most important job everyday is getting Kris’ office ready. His driver arrives at 9:28, sharp. The elevator takes a minute and forty-seven seconds to get from ground floor to here and it takes Kris exactly thirteen seconds to walk into his office. By the time the clock hits 9:30, everything in there better be ready or else someone’s getting fired.”

Jongdae opens the double doors to Kris’ office, leading Jongin to the center desk.

“Kris likes sparkling water in the morning, ice cold but left out to sit for just long enough.” Like Jongin saw him do yesterday, Jongdae reaches into the mini fridge under Kris’ desk and pulls out a green glass bottle. He uncaps it with a fizzing _pop_. Jongdae then pulls out a coaster from his pocket, waving it in front of Jongin.

“These coasters are corkwood, and they’re the only kind that Kris ever wants to see. We switch them out every week. If you look in the shelf under your desk, there’s a pile of them. If you’re ever running low, let me know _immediately_.”

Jongdae deposits the coaster on the corner of Kris’ desk, placing the water on top of it. Next to that, he arranges two crystal glasses. “Make sure you hold these by the bottom edge. If Kris sees any fingerprints, you’re as good as dead.”

“Okay. Water, coaster, glasses. No fingerprints,” Jongin parrots. “Got it.”

Jongdae walks back to his own desk, where there’s a stack of magazines. He scoops them up into his arms. “These are the periodicals. Kris needs to review them every morning so he can look at yesterday’s work with a fresh pair of eyes. Sort them by section, then chronologically.”

He deposits the magazines onto Kris’ desk, spreading them out in an overlapped arrangement. With a ruler, he starts measuring and rearranging. “The left bindings should be exactly an inch apart from each other and _oh_ \- the pens too. Everyone always forgets the pens.”

Jongdae pulls out two pens from his other pocket, one black and one red, and carefully places them horizontal to the periodicals. “These are 0.38 fine-tip ink pens from Muji. They are the only writing utensils that Kris will ever use. If you look in your left cabinet, we should have enough to last seven lifetimes. But again, if you ever run low, let me know _immediately_.”

“Great, sounds awesome,” Jongin mumbles, looking down at the list Jongdae gave him. How in world is he going to memorize all of this?

“One last thing,” Jongdae adds. He places a hand on Jongin’s shoulder and pulls, bringing them face to face.He’s so close that Jongin that he can smell his breath, that minty scent Jongdae probably gets from chewing so much gum. Jongin looks at him, terrified.

“Never, _ever_ let Kris see you inside his office,” Jongdae warns. “You can go in there when he’s not here, and you can go in when he summons you. But NEVER let him walk into his office and see you in there. It would spell out certain death for you.”

Death actually sounds pretty appealing to Jongin right now, but he’s not about to tell that to Jongdae.

Instead, he says:

“Sure. I’ll remember that.”

“Good,” Jongdae nods. He looks down to check his watch. “Alright, it’s 9:29 right now.”

The elevator dings.

“Get to your desk, hurry!” Jongin obeys without hesitation.

The doors open. Kris steps out.

 _Alright_ , Jongin thinks.

 _Here we go_.

  


Jongin navigates his first week at work like a nervous trainwreck. His life has always been a trainwreck, which is something he can normally deal with. But this time, the train is on fire, there are no tracks, and it’s also driving off a cliff. It turns out that working at Vogue is just like working at any other publication, except it’s a hundred times more complicated.

Kris’ oddly specific requests and quick demands has Jongin running all over New York. By now, he’s probably racked up a taxi bill larger than his rent. Vogue will pay for that...right?

Jongin is balancing a multitude of takeout boxes in his hands, stranded in the middle of Flushing, Queens because of course Kris’ favorite dim sum restaurant is far as fuck from the office, when his phone rings.

“ _Fuck_.” He swears under his breath, side-stepping onto the street while narrowly dodging an oncoming biker. Maybe if he books it, he can make the subway car to Midtown.

Jongin stacks the containers together so he can reach into his back pocket. “Hello?” he answers, racing down the metro station stairs.

Kris’ voice cuts through the line sharply. “I need you to pick up a box of pocket squares from the Hermes showroom.”

“Wait, what?” Jongin says, stunned. “But that’s all the way in Soho.”

“Yes, it is,” Kris replies coldly.

“But what about your dim sum?”

“I don’t want dim sum anymore. I want the pocket squares from Hermes.”

And then he hangs up.

Jongin ditches the dim sum in Queens and makes it to Soho in record speed. By the time he gets there, he’s wheezing so hard that the doorman stops him at the entrance.

“Are you alright, young man?” he asks, placing a concerned hand onto Jongin’s shoulder.

“Yes...I’m fine...I just need to…” Jongin gasps between breaths. “Hermes...for Kris Wu…”

At the mention of Kris’ name, the man freezes. “Right this way, then,” he says, quickly opening the door for Jongin.

  


Jongin carefully places the box onto Kris’ desk. It’s a beautiful dark blue, stamped with the Hermes logo and bowed with a brilliant white ribbon. And inside - tiny pieces of fabric worth more than Jongin’s entire life.

“The pocket squares, sir.”

“Wonderful,” Kris says flatly. “Thank you, Jongdae.”

Jongin resists the urge to correct him. Kris then nods toward the clothing rack sitting in the corner of his office, a singular ball gown hanging from it.

“Take that Marchesa down to arts. It needs to be taken in before Tiffany comes in for her Dior shoot…”

Jongin’s jaw drops. Tiffany? Like, Tiffany Young? _The_ Tiffany Young? No way.

“Wipe that look off your face.” Kris gives him a piercing stare, nothing short of petrifying. “If you’re going to be like this when any celebrity walks through the door, I’ll have you moved to catering services where no one can see you.”

“Of course, sir- I’m sorry, let me just-” Jongin shuffles to the rack, scrambling to get the dress down and leave the office as fast as possible.

He takes a deep breath after he closes the door, leaning on it for support. And then he looks at what he’s holding, handfuls and handfuls of red fabric. Where was he supposed to take this again?

The office is an intricate maze and Jongin never knows where to go or who to ask. He’s suffering every day, Kris still calls him Jondae, and to top it all off, Jongin is pretty sure that Jongdae will eternally hate him because he asks so many questions.

“You are completely hopeless,” Jongdae snaps after Jongin drops off the dress on the wrong floor...again.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin squeaks, drowning in swaths of satin and chiffon. He’s desperately trying to keep the gown from touching the floor. “I thought Jessica was the fashion director.”

Jongdae pushes air through his nose frustratedly. “Okay,” he says, standing up from his desk. “I’m going to explain this to you _one last time_.”

He points to the other side of the office. “Jessica’s office is on the north side of the building. She’s the _creative director_ , which means she’s allowed to do whatever the fuck she wants with the magazine unless-” Jongdae points to Kris’ office “-our boss says no.”

Jongin nods.

“Junmyeon from downstairs is head of editorial. The guy’s a little boring, if you ask me. And then on the floor below _that_ -” Jongdae narrows his eyes “-is Kibum’s studio.”

“Who is Kibum?” Jongin has never heard of him.

“Kibum is the director of fashion and art, our number three in charge. _That_ is where you need to take this dress.”

“Alright, got it. I’ll just be on my way then-”

“Wait.” Jongdae’s face turns dubious. “One last thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t stick around there too long. Be careful around Kibum, I don’t like him.”

 _You don’t like anybody_ , Jongin wants to say, but Jongdae has been the most helpful to him so far and he doesn’t want to throw away his only lifeline.

“Okay,” he replies. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kibum dwells three floors below in a wide, open space, lined with exposed concrete and accented with bright studio lights. It’s got a strong warehouse vibe and feels kind of like a dungeon.

Jongin finds Kibum standing at a large sewing table, scissors and threads and bolts of fabric spread out before him. His hair is short and blonde and he’s sporting a pair of thick-framed glasses. He has an inquisitive sort of face, one that looks young but not naive, articulate but not compassionate.

Jongin clears his throat. “Um, excuse me?”

“Yes?” Kibum says disinterestedly.

Jongin holds out the dress. “Kris said that this needs to be taken in for-”

“Tiffany’s shoot, yes.” Kibum slowly looks up. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

Jongin withers under his gaze. “I- yes, well. I just started-”

“You must be Kris’ newest victim.” Kibum steps closer. “Quite a handful, isn’t he?”

“Um- I don't think that’s-”

Kibum grabs the dress out of his hands.

“Thank you, Jongin.”

Jongin is pretty sure that he never mentioned his name once and Kibum’s words send him tumbling from mildly alarmed to downright terrified. Kris might be a pain in the ass, but at least he’s honest. Kibum looks like he’s hiding a secret and it makes Jongin uncomfortable. He itches for an escape.

“Well, I better get going. Thank you so much for-”

“Good luck to you,” Kibum smirks. “If Kris ever gives you too much trouble, I’m always down here.”

“Of course, thank you,” Jongin repeats before bolting for the elevator.

He’s never coming down here again.

  


Somewhere down the line, Jongin begins to realize that he’s not the only nervous wreck around here. Everyone in this office is secretly on edge, ready to burst at any moment. It might not be immediately apparent, but it’s there. Everyone here is crazy, Jongin included.

They all have their little quirks. Jongdae chews gum like a serial chainsmoker, burning through a pack a day and sometimes even two. Jessica asks for extra coffee and Baekhyun has this tick where he bites his nails raw (which Jongin observed while staring at his beautiful, beautiful hands. Seriously, who had that kind of palm-to-finger ratio?) Even Kris, in all his distinguished superiority, has his own oddities.

His hands shake, trembling subtly but enough to keep him from holding a pen without drawing attention. It only happens on the busiest and most maddening days, when everyone is too tense to notice. But Jongin notices, and he also notices that Kris hides it by asking his assistants to take notes for him. Today is one of those days.

Kris is deep in conversation with Chanyeol and Wendy when he catches Jongin on his way to lunch.

“Jongdae,” Kris says. “We’re discussing lineup changes for the beach editorial. I need you to take notes.”

Kris’ face remains impassive as ever but he shoves his hands into the pockets of his perfectly pressed slacks. To Jongin, his boss has never looked more human. It prompts a leap of boldness.

“Actually, it’s Jongin,” he corrects.

Chanyeol and Wendy both freeze, looking at him with astounded expressions.

Kris slowly turns. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Jongin,” he continues. “You keep calling me Jongdae, but that’s not my name.”

“Your _name_?” Kris asks, stepping forward.

Jongin shrinks back. Maybe following that sudden surge of courage wasn’t a good idea.

“You want to talk about names, _Jongin_? We can talk about names.” There’s an angry tinge in Kris’ voice, barely there but enough to make Jongin quiver in fear.

“I was born Li Jiaheng, which I changed to Wu Yifan when I entered the industry because it was easier for people to remember. I’ve labored and drudged through countless publications. I’ve worked in the press and I’ve seen newspapers close down. I’ve launched brands into success, watch others fail, and believe me, I’ve been the bitch at some point too.”

He steps even closer and Jongin feels his entire body quake.

“People only started calling me Kris after I came to Vogue. Everything I own is something I worked hard for. Nobody gave me this name. I earned it myself. Just like you’ll earn yours.”

Kris towers over him, challenging a response, but none comes. Jongin just looks up fearfully, nodding.

“That’s all.” Kris waves a flippant hand and starts walking again. “Never mind on those notes. I can take care of it myself.”

He stalks away, Chanyeol and Wendy scrambling to follow.

Jongin just stands there, speechless.

Kris doesn’t speak to Jongin for the rest of the day. When he does need something, he makes it a point to only ask for Jongdae.

“I think I’ve collectively sat in my desk for an entire five minutes today,” Jongdae says, breathless as he collapses into his chair. “I had to eat my lunch in the bathroom so Baekhyun wouldn’t see me crying at the cafeteria.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jongin whispers, leaning his entire body onto his desk. Maybe god will listen to his prayers and he can become one with the wood and live the rest of his life as a table.

“Stop that,” Jongdae chastises. “That is mahogany.”

“Will Kris ever like me?” Jongin asks.

“ _Jongdae, get in here right now!”_ Kris screams from across the office.

Jongdae shoots Jongin a weary look. “Probably never,” he says before sprinting through the cubicles to do whatever it is that Kris wants him to do.

  


The incident happens a week later. Jongin is moping at his desk, still thinking about how Kris had chewed him out, when Jessica bursts out of Kris’ office, slamming the doors open full force.

“I can’t _believe you_ ,” she fumes, heels digging angrily into the floor with every step.

Kris follows her. “Jessica, be reasonable-”

“Y _ou_ be reasonable.” She turns around and jabs a finger into his chest. “You know I don’t like working with her.”

“Then you won’t have to. It’s just an interview and a small spread, you can just pass it off to Chanyeol or Kibum-”

“ _No_ , I don’t want that snake in this building-”

“Kim Taeyeon is not a snake-”

“I don’t care what she is or what she isn’t. She’s not coming anywhere near my magazine.”

Kris raises his eyebrows, face aghast. “ _Your_ magazine? Vogue is _your_ magazine?”

The entire office silently watches, no one daring to make a noise.

“Yes,” Jessica says, crossing her arms. “I’m the creative director.”

Kris just scoffs. “So I guess it doesn’t matter that I’m editor-in-chief, because that’s hardly important, right?”

“This magazine belongs to me as much as it belongs to you.”

“Then the part that belongs to me will have Taeyeon on the next issue.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Jessica, it doesn’t matter. I say that we’re doing it, so we’re doing it.”

“You’re such a fucking jerk.” Jessica turns around, heading to her office. Her curls bounce as she punctuates every step with hard force. The sound of her heels echoes through the hallway.

Kris walks back into his office and slams the door.

Jongin looks at Jongdae.

 _What the fuck was that?_ he mouths.

After that, the office seems eerily empty. Typically bustling with conversation, the only thing Jongin hears now is the loud clacking of Jongdae’s keyboard.

“Why is nobody talking?” Jongin whispers.

Jongdae swivels around in his chair, sighing loudly. “Oh, Jongin. So young, so naive. So stupid.”

“Just tell me,” Jongin presses. “What’s going on?”

“Fine.” Jongdae says, leaning back in his seat. “This is how it is.”

Jongin listens closely.

“Kris and Jessica work great because they have similar tastes. Putting their ideas together is a seamless process that keeps us all working very efficiently. They disagree on very little but when they do, it tends to blow up.”

“They can’t compromise?”

“Jessica and Kris are very proud people. Jessica is used to doing whatever she wants with the Vogue but in the end, Kris is still the editor. He gets final say.”

“That makes sense,” Jongin says, nodding. “But that doesn’t explain why everyone is gone.” He gestures to the empty cubicles.

Jongdae holds a hand to his chin, contemplative. “So, Kris and Jessica are like the parents of Vogue. When mom and dad fight, none of the children want to be around. Everyone’s probably hiding out in Editorial right now. Junmyeon is the only normal one around here.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to see that.”

“Right. Well, anyways-” Jongdae reaches  for a stack of papers and holds it out “-can you deliver these drafts to Jessica? With Kris in a bad mood, I don’t think I should leave my desk.”

“Gladly.” Jongin grabs the papers. Jessica looked pretty mad, but he’ll take that any day over Kris.

Jongin carefully opens the door to Jessica’s office.

“Hello?” he says softly.

“Jongin!” Jessica greets. She’s sitting at her desk, poised and cheerful, no trace of the argument she just had with Kris. “Come in.”

“I just needed to drop these off-”

“Of course.” She taps the document holder on her desk. “You can put them right here.”

“Alright,” Jongin says, following her instructions.

“Would you mind closing the door?” she continues. “And have a seat too.”

“What?” Jongin says, halfway to leaving already.

“Let’s have a talk.”

Jongin wordlessly obeys. What are they going to talk about? Was he going to be yelled at? But this was _Jessica_...beautiful, pretty, and kind. She wouldn’t yell at him, right?”

“I’m not going to yell at you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, as if reading his mind.

“Oh, well- I wasn’t…”

Jessica just smiles. “You were thinking it, I can tell.”

“I guess I was,” Jongin admits, pressing his lips in a tight line.

Jessica leans forward, elbows on her desk. “I just wanted to check in with how you were doing,” she clarifies. “The first month can be rough.”

“I’m hanging on,” Jongin supplies. “Sort of.”

“You’re doing just fine.” Jessica gives him a blinding smile. “I’m sure Jongdae is doing a great job getting you up to speed, but don’t hesitate to ask me anything.”

“Actually,” Jongin says, “I do have a question.” Something has been bothering him the entire time he’s been working here.

Jessica looks at him, interested. “Ask away.”

“What do you think of me...being here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m obviously not the kind of person you guys would usually hire, a journalist with no experience in the fashion industry. When you guys go on about brands and designers, I feel like I’m trying to understand a different language. What is Kris trying to do here?”

Jessica thinks for a moment, searching for an honest answer.

“I can’t tell you what exactly goes on in Kris’ mind, but I do think it’s interesting what he’s doing,” she finally says. “Instead of hiring one of those wannabe girls who show up in in off-brand Chanel and ramble on about how this is their _dream job_ , he went for someone completely unexpected. I think it’s refreshing, don’t you too?”

 _Refreshing_ , Jongin thinks, turning the word over in his mind. He doesn’t know what a shannel is, but somewhere in there, buried deep, is a compliment. The first compliment anyone in this office has given him.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Jessica beams. “Anyways, that’s all I wanted to talk about.”

“Thank you,” Jongin says. He means it.

“Anytime. Oh, and on your way out, would you mind sending Baekhyun in?”

“Of course, Jessica.”

“Great. I’m craving for some coffee and he’s the only one who ever gets it right.”

  


One month into the job, Jongin meets Sehun. After an entire month of dealing with Kris, tolerating Jongdae, and avoiding Kibum, Jongin meets Sehun and suddenly, all the suffering he’s had in life becomes worth it.

Sehun is a model who recently broke into the scene with his tall height and summery good looks. It’s the middle of June and with the beach editorial coming up, he gets paraded into the office several times a week, wrestled into white shirts and light jeans and it gets Jongin more than a little hot under the collar.

Jongin is busy with work, organizing the specification sheet for this lineup of models, when Sehun speaks to him for the first time.

“Hi, I’m Sehun,” he says.

Jongin looks at the handsome, beautifully symmetrical face talking to him. He feels his heart fly out of his chest. If this were a cartoon, he’d have to grab it and put it back.

“H-hi,’ he stammers. “I’m Jongin.”

“You must be the new assistant, right? I’ve heard about you.”

“You have?” Jongin asks in disbelief.

“Of course,” Sehun answers. “I always see you around here, but I’ve never been able to catch you at a good time. It’s nice to finally meet you.” His smile is dazzling.

And there it goes - Jongin’s sanity, right out the window.

Jongin has never really been one to buy into the commercial standards of beauty but Oh Sehun proves to be a remarkable exception. His alabaster skin has this heavenly glow about it and the man has legs for days (definitely _not_ an innocent observation this time). He finds himself having great difficulty tearing his eyes away from a shoulder-waist ratio that should clearly be illegal and _oh no_ , he’s staring.

“Is there something wrong with my shirt?” Sehun asks, looking down in mild confusion.

 _Yeah, it’s on your body when it should be off_ . “Nothing is wrong!” Jongin says, scrambling for an explanation. “I just- I’m sorry, I spaced out. I’m really busy and I need to get this sex- _I mean_ , SPEC sheet finished before the stylists can-”

Jongdae clears his throat, taking the entire scene in like a bad Spanish soap opera. “Alright, you guys. Break it up. Sehun, get down to hair and makeup. They’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Sehun smiles sheepishly, waving goodbye before disappearing. Jongin looks longingly at his retreating figure.

“Don’t be so sad,” Jongdae says. “Sehun just got scouted by one of the best modeling agencies in the world. Which means he’ll be around this office a lot more.”

Jongin doesn’t miss the cat grin that stretches across Jongdae’s face.

  


If Jongin thought things were looking up, he was wrong.

It’s evening. Jongin is sweaty and tired, having just finished a dance session. With his job becoming so busy, studio time has been hard to come by and it feels good to let his body loose.

“You coming out for drinks?” Yixing asks, wiping sweat from his forehead with a corner of his shirt.

Jongin is about to say yes when he looks down at his phone and sees two unread text messages.

 

[9:42] _I changed my mind about the tartan skirt_

[9:42] _Please retrieve the Chanel skirt instead_

 

 _Shit_ , it’s from Kris. The tartan skirt was for a shoot tomorrow, which means he needs to get ahold of the Chanel by eight in the morning (yes, he finally figured out that Chanel is a brand). The Chanel people had come by today to pick up all the pieces that Kris vetoed and taken them back to- _fuck_ , where did they take them back to?

“Count me out today,” Jongin says, scrambling for his gym bag. There’s no time to shower.

He dials a number which, by now, he knows by heart.

Jongdae picks up in a heartbeat. “Fuck me,” he says immediately. “I was supposed to have a hot date tonight, but now I have to cancel because of a fucking skirt.”

“What should we do?” Jongin asks, exiting the studio. The evening breeze feels uncomfortable on his skin.

“Check the Chanel showroom, maybe someone is still there. I’m going to call all the sales reps and see if they know anything.” And then he hangs up.

Cursing under his breath, Jongin hails a taxi to Midtown. The traffic is agonizing slow and by the time he gets to Chanel, it looks deserted. _Goddamnit._

A young lady walks out of the building, adjusting her purse. Jongin runs up to her.

“Excuse me,” he says. “Is there any way to get into that building? I’m from Vogue and there was a mix-up today with the skirts.”

She looks at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry, but everything up there right now is for private show only. All the lendable pieces are either borrowed out or at the design studio.”

“The design studio?” Jongin asks. “Where is that?”

“Here, let me give you the address,” she says. “You could also try the showroom director, I’ll give you his number too.

  


_Fuck_ , Jongin thinks, resisting the urge to chuck his phone on the ground. The design studio had been completely empty, so he called all Jongdae’s contacts at Elle and Allure and every other publication on the same street. Maybe they had the skirt.

It’s two in the morning. Jongin is tiredly sifting through clothing racks at the Cosmopolitan office, which a fashion editor working late hours had graciously let him into, when Jongdae calls again.

“Any luck?”

“No,” Jongin says, going through the last of the skirts. Where the fuck is the Chanel?

“I tracked down one of the director’s assistants and they told me he just left New York on business, but the fucker hung up before I could ask where.”

“Sounds great,” Jongin says, dejected. He thanks the editor and heads out the building. He’s checked all the offices he possibly can and the skirt is nowhere to be found.

He’s on the street, wandering from the business district, when it starts pouring rain.

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Jongdae says over the phone.

Jongin runs toward a storefront, looking for cover. “I am. Look- I’m sorry, I’m coming to the office, just give me fifteen minutes.”

No response.

“Hello? Jongdae?”

Jongin looks down. His phone is dead.

His shirt is soaked through clean and everything in his gym bag is probably wet now too. He’s been running around the last four hours for a goddamn skirt and he’s really fucking tired.

Jongin flags down a taxi, relaying the address to his apartment.

 _It’s just a skirt_ , he thinks.

 _It’s not worth it_.

  


The next day, Jongdae stalks into the office twenty minutes later than usual. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes and his eyes are bloodshot. In his hands, he’s clutching the Chanel skirt.

“Thanks for helping out,” he says icily, throwing the skirt onto Jongin’s desk.

“Jongdae,” Jongin says, standing up. “I’m so sorry- it got so late and my phone died, I didn’t think that-”

“You didn’t think _what_ , Jongin? I dare you to finish that sentence.” Jongdae is absolutely seething. “Do you know where I found this skirt? Ask me where I found this skirt.”

“Um,” Jongin squeaks, terrified. “Where did you find the skirt?”

“Chicago, Jongin. I found it in Chicago. After you so graciously _hung up on me_ , I tracked the showroom director down to Chicago and hopped onto the next plane to that fucking **shithole** of a city so I could find this goddamn skirt and fly back to New York as soon as possible. And do you know what I was thinking the entire time? The entire time I was running through the streets of Chicago?”

Jongin shrinks back in fear, trying to make himself as small as possible. If he could just melt into the carpet right now, that would be great. Jongdae just keeps talking, his voice slowly rising in volume.

“I was thinking about how Kris hired two assistants but for some reason, it feels like there’s only one.”

Jongin opens his mouth to apologize. “Jongdae, I-”

“Look here, you little _bitch_.” Jongdae takes a step closer. “I don’t care that you went to some fancy school or believe that’s okay to waltz in here wearing trash because you think your dancer’s body makes everything look passable-”

He puncuates every sentence with a hard poke to Jongin’s chest.

“-or if you secretly think that you’re better than all of us. All I care about is getting the job done and at the end of the day, if you don’t do what Kris says, it’s _my_ head on the chopping block.”

Jongdae speaks so fast, Jongin can barely get a word in.

“I am _not_ going to get fired because your bony ass can’t **grow the fuck up** . You’re here because this is your _job_ and you need to start _doing your job._ ”

The angrier Jongdae gets, the higher-pitched his voice becomes. Jongin can feel the secondhand distress bleeding out from his tone. He, too, is becoming more distressed.

“Kris might not have enough time to deal with your incompetent ass, but I do. If you don’t step it up in the next few days, I am going to personally make your life a living hell.”

Jongin thought he was already in living hell but apparently, things are just getting started.

  


The morning trickles by slowly and Jongin alternates between apologizing to Jongdae and sulking in guilt.

“Stop saying sorry,” Jongdae demands after the nth time. “The best thing you can do right now is your job.”

Jongin doesn’t really want to deal with Jongdae right now and he definitely doesn’t want to see Kris, so he heads to the cafeteria to mope alone where no one can bother him. That plan doesn’t quite work because he’s slumped forward in his seat, trying to become one with the table, when someone comes up to him.

“What’s bumpin’, pumpkin?” Baekhyun sits down in the seat across and slides him a cup of coffee. It smells amazing. “Why so sad?”

Jongin peels his face off the table and eyes the coffee wearily. He doesn't take it.

“Alright,” Baekhyun sighs. “I know Jongdae said that you couldn’t get coffee for me, but he didn’t say anything about _receiving_ coffee, did he?”

“What’s in it?” Jongin asks.

“Take a sip and find out.”

He relents, bringing the cup to his lips. It goes down smooth and tastes divine.

“What is this?” He’s astonished. “It’s incredible.”

Baekhyun just grins. “It’s an espresso macchiato. Jessica has an expensive espresso machine hidden away in her office and yours truly happens to be a bit of a connoisseur.” He cushions his chin on his palm, regarding Jongin fondly. “You like it?”

“I love it. If my coffee tasted like this, I would drink it everyday.”

Baekhyun chuckles. “Maybe we can work something out, honey.”

For the first time since he started working here, Jongin laughs. Everyday, he’s been dealing with impossible requests and bitchy people and finally, there’s someone here who’s _nice_ and actually gives a shit. Go figure that Baekhyun happens to be Jessica’s assistant. They’re both wonderful.

“So tell me, what’s wrong?” Baekhyun asks again. “You look like someone just ran over your dog.”

“Honestly, that situation sounds favorable to the shit I’m in right now.”

“Oh my god.” Baekhyun puts a hand over his mouth in mock horror. “You would rather kill a puppy than work with Kris?”

“I just- _well_ , I don’t…” Jongin thinks about how tired Jongdae had looked this morning, how angry he had been, rightfully so.

He looks down in shame. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this job.”

“Nonsense!” Baekhyun taps a finger under his chin, forcing Jongin to bring his gaze back up. “Of course you belong here. Otherwise, Kris wouldn’t have hired you.”

“Well, I’m starting to think that was maybe a mistake on his part.”

“Kris Wu doesn’t make mistakes,” Baekhyun states matter-of-factly. “He’s never made a wrong decision.”

Jongin feels dubious. “You sure about that?”

“Absolutely positive.”

Baekhyun looks Jongin up and down, not unlike the way Jongdae had done when they first met. His eyes seem to inspect everything closely and Jongin feels a tinge of fear stirring inside him because he knows what’s coming. Baekhyun smiles wider.

“We just need to change up a few things,” he says, eyeing Jongin maniacally. “Starting with that horrendous shirt.”

  


“Here is it!” Baekhyun says, opening the stock room door with a flourish. It’s a large storehouse full of shelves bursting with shirts and pants and shoes, a library of clothes.

Jongin stares in awe. “Whoa,” he says, overwhelmed and amazed.

“Here, take this.” Baekhyun throws him a blue collared shirt. The tag says Armani and it probably costs the same amount of money it takes to feed Jongin for a week.

“Are you sure?” he asks, holding up the shirt. Baekhyun just keeps digging through the shelves.

“Of course. _Ooh_ , we have these in green and black too. Alright, take all of these, we just got them starched.” He tosses more shirts at Jongin. “Are you a scarf guy?”

Baekhyun looks at him, holding up two silk scarves.

Jongin looks back, confused. “I don’t know?”

“You don’t look like a scarf guy,” Baekhyun concludes. He puts them back.

“How big is this place?” Jongin asks.

Baekhyun just shoves a pair of heathered gray slacks into his arms. “You’ve got some nice legs, this will look great.” He gives him three more pairs of pants. “These too.”

“Alright, then,” Jongin says, toppling from the weight.

Baekhyun rounds the corner to another set of shelves. “Now let’s get you some shoes.”

“Is it okay for me to just-” Jongin side steps a shoe rack “-take all of these?”

“None of the stuff down here gets much use, and I’d rather them be on your body than collect dust.”

“Makes sense,” Jongin says, accepting two pairs of oxfords.

“I’m just so excited for you to finally stop looking like a teenager who shoplifts from PacSun,” Baekhyun gushes.

“What’s wrong with PacSun?” Jongin asks nobody in particular. Baekhyun is already gone, busy in the next room looking for belts.

When Jongin returns, dropping everything onto his desk, Jongdae just raises an eyebrow.

“Baekhyun,” Jongin says, hoping that would explain everything

“Ugh, Baekhyun,” Jongdae says, no malice in his voice. “He just loves taking care of the strays.”

  


Before he sits down at his desk the next morning, Jongin gets beckoned over by Baekhyun, who insists on giving him an outfit pre-approval before he goes back to work. Jongin has no idea why Baekhyun is being so nice to him until he realizes that he’s just doing it for the fun of it all - the guy loves fashion.

“Alright,” Baekhyun says, fixing his hair. “You look great. Just don’t tug on your collar.”

“Okay,” Jongin nods, adjusting the buttons on his shirt. It’s Lacoste. And his shoes - Versace.

He walks to his desk, sits down, and waits.

Jongdae strolls into the office ten minutes later, stepping out of the elevator and talking rapidly into his phone.

“Get rid of the pinks, Kris doesn’t want pastel anymore,” he says, walking to his desk. “Also take out the second draft, we have enough Hilfiger coverage for this month.”

Jongin looks at him silently.

“Just make sure whatever outfits you use have white bottoms, Kris is trying out this new thing,” Jongdae continues, putting down his bag. “And as for the Balmain trousers, cinch them in the back because Irene’s waist is absolutely _tiny_ and-” Jongdae’s eyes land on Jongin and he freezes “-let me call you back.”

“Hi,” Jongin says, hopeful.

Jongdae’s eyes slowly rake down his body.

“Who are you and what the fuck did you do with Jongin.”

“I don’t look that different,” Jongin insists.

“Well, for starters, it doesn’t look like you exclusively shop at Goodwill anymore.”

“Come _on_!”

“I must say, Baekhyun has outdone himself this time.” He redirects his gaze to Jongin’s face. “Congratulations, newbie. You don’t look awful for once.”

Jongin smiles. That’s the first compliment Jongdae has ever given him and he accepts it gratuitously.

“Thank you, Jongdae.”

It’s a slow day at the office. With the final release of the July issue to the printers, everyone is taking a breather, letting themselves bask in the rare idle time.

Jongin is boredly flipping through an old issue of Vogue (“research” as Baekhyun likes to call it) when Jongdae places a warm mug of odd-smelling water in front of him.

“Here.”

“What?”

“Kris takes his afternoon tea at two, every single day,” Jongdae explains, smacking his gum. “Today, I’m giving you the honorable task of delivering it to him.”

“Do I have to?” Jongin looks up with pleading eyes.

“Suck it up, buttercup. You’re never going to be able to do your job if you don’t force yourself to have facetime with Kris. He’s your fucking boss, so stop being so terrified.”

“Fine,” Jongin mutters, taking the mug.

He knocks before entering the office. “Your tea, sir,” he says, carefully placing it on corkwood coaster.

“Thank you,” Kris says, sorting through a pile of documents. “Oh, one more thing, could you-” he looks up and pauses, as if seeing Jongin for the very first time “-huh.”

“Is...something wrong, sir?”

“Just the opposite, actually.” Kris’ face is a rare display of satisfaction. “You look decent for once.”

Jongin doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult but it’s better than getting yelled at.

“Thank you, sir. Was there something else you needed to be done?”

“Yes,” Kris says, holding out a singular sheet of paper. “This is the guest list to our gala next month. Please make sure to memorize it by tomorrow. We’ll send out invites next week.”

Jongin takes the paper, a long list of phone numbers and contact information of a dozen company executives, some celebrities, and countless designers. He has no idea who most of them are.

“What’s that?” Jongdae asks when Jongin comes out of the office.

“It’s for the gala-”

“Oh, the guest list is out?” Jongdae holds out his hands. “Hand it over.”

Jongin complies.

“Huh, that’s weird,” Jongdae says, scrutinizing the page.

“What?”

“It says Taeyeon is invited. But she’s already flying in this month for a shoot. Is she staying in New York that long? I’ve been seeing her around a lot lately…”

Kim Taeyeon is so famous that even Jongin has heard her name before. She’s a socialite who seems to be deeply involved in the fashion world. Beyond the fact that she and Jessica have some past history, Jongin really has no idea what else she does.

“Anyways, I hope you’re up for a little homework tonight,” Jongdae says. “Because Kris is going to expect us to know everything on this list by heart tomorrow.”

Jongin gulps. This is just great.

  


Jongin slumps down at his desk, tired. He stayed up all night yesterday, trying to remember the names and numbers of people on the invite list.  He hasn’t memorized this many things since high school biology, but he’s glad he did it. First thing in the morning, Kris had called him up and grilled him about each person, in alphabetical order.

Kris is currently out on a luncheon with Marc Jacobs and Jongdae had gone with him. They would be back in an hour and Jongin heads into Kris’ office, arranging the desk in preparation for his return.

He’s in the middle of replacing the coasters when he hears a knock.

Jongin freezes. That couldn’t be Kris, right? He thinks back to what Jongdae said, on his first day of work - if Kris sees Jongin in his office, he’s going to _kill_ him-

The door opens. Jongin holds his breath.

“Hi,” Sehun says. “Is Kris in right now?”

Jongin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Holy shit, you scared me. What are you doing here?” Sehun is looking gorgeous as ever, wearing jeans and a striped shirt (who the fuck looks that good in stripes?), but Jongin still needs a moment to recover.

“My manager from Calvin Klein wanted one of us to drop something off,” Sehun answers, brandishing a package in his hands. “I guess I got the short end of the stick.”

“You sure did,” Jongin mutters, taking the package and placing it on Kris’ desk. He scribbles a note on it for Kris to see when he gets back.

“I’m glad I ran into you, though,” Sehun continues. “How are you?”

Jongin thinks for a moment. “Honestly? It’s been two months and I’m still getting used to it.”

Sehun just laughs in the most charming way and Jongin is pretty sure he’s going to have a heart attack.

“You never will,” he says. “It’s fashion, Jongin. No one ever knows what’s going on. Not even Kris.”

“Oh my god, don’t say that!” Jongin says. “Especially not in this office! This is sacred space!”

“Hahaha, you’re so funny,” Sehun laughs and wait- okay. He’s definitely flirting with him.

Suddenly, the elevator dings and Jongin can hear footsteps coming toward the office.

“ _Please_ , Jongdae,” Kris barks. “I told you I wanted the Estee Lauder pages organized by color, not alphabet. Do you even listen to what I say?”

 _Shit_ , he’s back.

Jongin looks around the office frantically. If he leaves now, Kris would surely see him on his way out. And then there’s Sehun too. Fuck, what should he do? He can’t let Kris see him in his office, he _just_ got his boss to like him and this was going to ruin everything.

He eyes Kris’ coat closet. “Follow me,” he says, grabbing Sehun’s arm.

“Wait, what-”

Jongin quickly shoves Sehun and himself into Kris’ closet, shutting the door so they’re out of view. A second later, Kris walks into his office.

“...and after that, make sure to confirm the meeting with Taeyeon. Make a reservation or something, I can’t have Jessica finding out. Also, can you- oh, what’s this?”

There’s a rustling noise. “It’s from Calvin Klein, how nice of them. Anyways, Jongdae, please have cardstock samples ready by tomorrow, I want to start...”

Jongin listens to the conversation closely but tunes it out when he realizes that he’s got a mouthful of Kris’ Burberrys and an armful of smirking Sehun.

“What this really necessary?” the model whispers, clearly enjoying the close proximity.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Jongin hisses, straining his ears in an attempt to assess the situation outside. He’s desperately trying to ignore the fact that they’re all wrapped up in each other and _um_ , wait- is that Sehun’s hand on his ass??

“Oops, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Fine indeed.

Suddenly, Jongin hears Jongdae’s voice. “You want to start sending out gala invites by next week, yes. I’ll write this all down for you. If you don’t leave now, you will be late for the Hera launch party-”

“Alright, Jongdae. I’m leaving now,” Kris says, followed by the sound of footsteps.

Jongin listens closely, waiting for Kris and Jongdae to disappear. Then he hears the telltale sign of an elevator beep and lets out a deep breath.

“Holy shit,” he says, bursting out of the closet.

“Well, that was fun,” Sehun comments.

Jongin half-glares at him. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Jongdae is sitting at his desk, busy on his computer, when he sees Jongin and Sehun walk out of Kris’ supposedly empty office.

“What in the hell…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jongin says, blushing madly. “I’m taking my lunch hour right _now_.” And then he stomps toward the elevator.

Jongdae turns to Sehun. “What the hell just happened?”

Sehun just laughs, amused.

  


It’s the beginning of August and New York is caught in the middle of a particularly sweltering summer. Jongin is glad he wore just a thin shirt today (Balenciaga, white v-neck, given to him two sizes two large because Baekhyun is really into the tucked-in oversized look lately).

He’s coming up in the elevator, having just finished his lunch hour, when Jongdae corners him with a frantic tone in his voice.

“Jongin,” he says. “I need you to do me a huge favor.”

It’s not exactly a request he can refuse. “Sure, what is it?”

“So we’re expecting a call today from Taeyeon, but I _can’t_ let Baekhyun answer it, otherwise he’ll tell Jessica and she’s going to get mad again and the entire office is going to be a mess-”

Jongdae speaks so rapidly, Jongin is barely following.

“-but we also have Sehun and Irene coming in today for one of the special themed shoots that we’re doing for our 125th anniversary edition and I **need** you to preside over it while I man the desk and stay on call for Taeyeon.”

Jongin stares at him, processing the information. “So…” he says. “I just need to be there at the shoot?”

“And make sure everything runs smoothly,” Jongdae nods. He takes out a call sheet. “Here’s everything you need to know about it and-” he takes out another sheet “-here’s a list of all the pieces you need to get for the stylists. Wendy will take care of hair and makeup.”

“Okay, got it,” Jongin says

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“What?”

Jongdae grins. “Try not to make a fool of yourself in front of Sehun.”

Jongin flushes.

  


When Jongin gets down to the studio, there are people bustling everywhere and soundtrack from the Pirates of the Caribbean is being blasted from speakers.

“What the hell…” he softly whispers. A wardrobe stylist passes by, rolling a clothing rack, and Jongin’s eyes dart to the craft services where Sehun is piling fruit onto a plate. He’s about to head over there when he gets intercepted.

“Hey, Jongin!” Chanyeol says, grinning widely. He’s wearing one of those khaki photographer vests, the ones with a million pockets down the chest. It’s an ugly piece of clothing that Jongin knows Chanyeol can only get away with because it’s functional.

“Hi, Chanyeol,” Jongin says. “Why is it so loud? What’s this music?”

“The shoot today is going to be pirate-themed,” Chanyeol answers with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m just trying to get the whole set into the mood.”

Jongin looks at him dubiously. “The mood?”

“Yes.” Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows. “The pirate mood.”

“Okay, sure.” Jongin looks around. He sadly notes that by now, Sehun is gone from the food table. He’s probably in hair and makeup. “I’m going to make sure Wendy has everything she needs. Are you good over here?”

“Yup,” Chanyeol says. “Don’t be too long, we start in ten.”

Wendy is in the middle of giving Irene a blowout when Jongin enters the makeup studio.

“Hi, Jongin. Did you need something?” she asks, turning off the hair dryer.

“Um, no. I’m just here to make sure you have everything _you_ need.” He watches as Wendy expertly pins Irene’s hair up in a loose Victorian bun.

“Oh, no. I’m good.”

Jongin turns to Irene, who looks very beautiful but also very bored. She’s wearing a large ruffled dress with a plunging neckline, no doubt a more modern take on the era.

“What about you? Do you need anything?” he asks.

Jongin figures that if _he_ was about to do a photoshoot with Oh Sehun, he’d be dying inside the entire time. Irene looks gorgeous, so he can’t imagine how Sehun must look right now. Irene doesn’t seem too excited though.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she mutters, getting up from her seat and heading off to set. The train of her dress is so heavy and long that she has carry it in her hands as she walks.

“What’s up with her?” Jongin asks absently.

Wendy gives a light laugh. “Irene doesn’t like doing shoots with Chanyeol. You’ll see why.”

Five minutes later, Jongin understands exactly what she means.

“Touch him, Irene. _Touch him_.” Chanyeol has one knee on the ground, maneuvering wildly. His right eye is glued to the viewfinder of a DSLR so huge, it’s probably the size of Jongin’s head. There’s still Pirates of the Caribbean music playing in the background.

“I’m already touching him,” Irene complains from where she’s perched on a pile of fake rocks.

“Well, touch him MORE.”

“Ugh, _fine!_ ” She drags a hand down Sehun’s torso, resting it at his waist.

“Yes! Oh my god,” Chanyeol exclaims, snapping away with his camera. “I love it! So sexy!”

Sehun is leaning against Irene, his body spread out like an expensive buffet and Jongin would definitely pay good money to eat at _that_ restaurant. Huh, who said that? His last few brain cells have apparently died and now he’s thinking exclusively with his dick. Wonderful.

The model is wearing a billowing white tunic, one with a ruffled collar and cinched sleeves. His long legs look amazing in a pair of sinfully tight black pants and Jongin doesn’t remember Orlando Bloom wearing anything like _that_ in the movies.

“Alright,” Chanyeol says, lining up for another shot. “Now, it’s time for the finishing touch.”

“Wait, what?” Irene asks, alarmed. “What finishing touch?”

“Now!” Chanyeol yells.

A production assistant comes by with a bucket of water and dumps it on Sehun and Irene.

“Alright, give me shipwrecked! Give me hopeless!” Chanyeol shouts, his camera shutter going off like crazy. “You just washed up on the beach, barely drowning in the ocean. Give me more EMOTION!!”

Irene’s hair is splattered to her face and she contorts her grimace into an appropriate expression. Sehun stares off to the side, adjusting his face as well.

The water is slowly seeping into his shirt, sticking maddeningly to his skin. The outlines of his nipples are prominent under the white fabric. Jongin desperately tries to redirect his gaze elsewhere.

“Okay, one more thing,” Chanyeol says, stepping onto the photoset. Stray pebbles rustle on the ground as he walks up to Sehun. “This is going to be SO SEXY.”

Sehun’s face remains impassive as Chanyeol puts a hand on the front of his shirt and tugs hard. The sound of popping buttons echoes throughout the studio. One of the stylists groans frustratedly at the blatant display of disrespect to the clothing.

“Holy shit,” Jongin whispers. Sehun’s entire shirt is now open, revealing his naked chest, impressively toned and flawless.

Jongin thinks he’s about to have a stroke.

  


The next couple of sets are nowhere near as heart attack-inducing as the first. Sehun and Irene get changed into more modest outfits and at some point, Irene even gets to wear a full-on pirate getup, channeling badass Keira Knightley vibes.

Jongin is about to think that maybe his struggles are over for the day but as usual, he’s wrong.

Irene sits to the side, finished with her solo shots. She’s still in full hair and makeup, observing the set and looking sympathetically at her fellow model.

“Come on, Sehun!” Chanyeol shouts. They’re on the last shot and he’s on one knee again, trying to get the best angle. “Give me more EXPRESSION. You’re a swashbuckling sailor, ready to roam the seas!”

“I’m a what.” Sehun adjusts the gold buttons on his blue tailcoat. They’re going for British naval officer here and it’s unfair, really, just how good Sehun looks in anything.

“I said you’re a swashbuckling- _ah!_ FUCK!”

In a scream of pain, Chanyeol lurches forward. He breaks his fall with two hands on the floor. His camera hangs from his neck, barely saved from crashing on the ground.

The entire set goes quiet for a moment. Jongin leaps into action.

“Are you okay?” he asks, rushing to where Chanyeol is crouched in the floor.

“I think my knee just gave out- ah, _shit_. That hurts.”

Jongin squats, getting a closer look.

“Wait, Chanyeol. I think you…” Jongin pauses, observing all the signs. He’s had his fair share of injuries and this is definitely one he’s seen quite often at the dance studio.

“You think I what?” Chanyeol asks.

“I think you dislocated your knee cap.”

Chanyeol remains alarmingly calm.

“Are you...okay?” Jongin asks.

Chanyeol just groans. “Ugh, not _again_.”

“Dude, what the hell?” Jongin doesn’t know whether to be worried or scared. Was this a regular occurrence around here? He turns to the production assistant. “Can I get a wheelchair?”

Chanyeol starts to protest. “But we’re not finished-”

“No, we’re cutting this short,” Jongin says. “Everybody, let’s wrap it up!”

“But I didn’t get to capture the perfect emotion yet,” the photographer pouts.

Sehun steps off the set, shedding his uncomfortable jacket. “No, I think we got enough shots.”

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees. “Let’s get your knee checked out.”

While Chanyeol gets wheeled off to the hospital, Jongin tries his best to guide everyone in the right direction. He’s in the middle of helping Wendy pack up when Sehun appears by his side again.

“How are you?” he asks. “I know today is a little crazy.”

“I’m alright,” Jongin answers, organizing four different kinds of hairspray into a box. “Modeling looks tiring.”

Sehun laughs. “Is this your first time at photoshoot?”

“Yes,” Jongin answers, thinking about today’s roller coaster of events. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Don’t worry,” Sehun reassures with a gentle pat to his arm. “And besides, you did great at damage control.”

“Did I? We broke your shirt, there’s probably water damage on Irene’s dress, and our director of photography is in the hospital.”

“Yup,” Sehun nods. “Sounds like a normal day to me.”

  


A week later, Kris calls Jongin into his office.

“I heard about how you handled the photoshoot,” he says, watching Jongin with careful eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin immediately apologizes. “I know it didn’t exactly go according to plan but-”

“I’m impressed,” Kris interrupts. “You’re finally getting used to how this office works.”

Jongin looks up, surprised. “Oh, I-uh...thank you, sir.”

“On that note, I think it’s finally time that I let you take on some larger responsibilities.”

“Of course,” Jongin says, straightening his posture. “What do you need me to do?”

Kris leans back in his seat, taking the time to put his words in order. “I’m leaving for Paris in four days for a conference with the International Apparel Federation. During my travels, I will get bored and I would like to bring some reading material with me.”

Jongin stares at him, confused. Was his boss...asking for book recommendations?

“What I want you to do,” Kris continues, “is to secure Calvin Klein’s seasonal lookbook for me.”

“Calvin Klein…” Jongin mumbles, thinking. “Wait, didn’t they just mail us their winter lookbook last month?”

“I want their summer lookbook,” Kris deadpans. “Summer of _next year_.”

Jongin blanches. “It’s August right now, the next summer season is ten months away. They don’t even release exclusive previews until October-”

“I know what I’m asking for,” Kris cuts in. “Don’t even think about coming back into this office unless you have that lookbook in your hands. That is all.”

Jongin bursts out of Kris’ office, astounded.

“Hey there, Care Bear,” Jongdae says, looking up from filing his nails. “What’s wrong?”

Jongin strides to his desk, pulling out a binder of contacts. He needs to find the Calvin Klein rep _now_.

“Kris just asked me to do the impossible,” he says, flipping frantically through the pages. “And basically told me that if I didn’t do it, he would fire me.”

“What did he ask you to do?”

Jongin finally reaches the right page. _Aha!_ “He asked my to get Calvin Klein’s seasonal lookbook...for the summer of _next year_.”

“Oh, dear,” Jongdae says. “The Calvin Klein rep definitely can’t help you there, if that’s who you’re thinking of calling.”

“ _Damnit_ ,” Jongin says. He writes down the number anyways. It doesn’t hurt to try.

“Ooh, this is exciting,” Jongdae comments. “You’ve finally reached _The Trials_.”

“The _what_?” Jongin huffs frustratedly. Three months on the job, and he still has no idea what’s going on.

“ _The Trials_ , my friend, are an age-old tradition carried on by every executive assistant to grace this publication.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.” Jongdae puts down his nail file and grins. “Anytime the chief or director feels that their assistant is ready, they assign them an impossible task. If you complete this task successfully, then it’s a sign to all of us that you’re here to stay.”

“What the fuck,” Jongin says. “This is insane.”

“It’s _thrilling_ ,” Jongdae says. “It means Kris finally sees you as a real person. It’s honestly been awhile since I’ve seen another executive assistant reach The Trials. Even longer since I’ve seen one complete it.”

“Who’s the last person to complete the trials?”

“Me, two years ago. And Baekhyun before that.”

“What did Baekhyun have to do?”

Jongdae thinks for a moment. “Jessica made him reunite the Spice Girls for a winter photoshoot. I think Victoria Beckham actually cancelled last minute, but Baekhyun still got to keep his job. A big mistake, if you ask me.”

“And what about you?”

“Kris had me obtain a Chanel Diamond Forever flap bag.”

Jongin scrunches his nose. “What’s so special about that?”

Jongdae deadpans. “There’s only thirteen in the entire world.”

“Holy shit, how did you-”

“Ah, ah,” Jongdae says, waving a finger. “I’m not telling. We never tell our secrets.”

“So that means you can’t-”

“Nope,” Jongdae says. “Nobody here is allowed to help you. God, I can’t wait to tell Baekhyun about this…”

Jongin just groans, cradling his heads into his hands. Why can’t he just be a desk? Desks didn’t have to run around all of New York, looking for obscure Chanel skirts and unpublished lookbooks.

He lost his old job in April, got hired in May, and now he’s going to get fired... _again_.

  


“-and if I don’t get the book in time, they’re going to _fire me_. I hate my job.” Jongin takes his shot of vodka and downs it, grimacing as he feels the burn.

“Tell me about it,” Minseok groans, mirroring Jongin’s actions and taking his own shot. “I’ve been leaving the office at eleven everyday. This new brand acquisition deal is _killing_ me.”

“Glad we can suffer together,” Jongin says, pouring them both another shot.

They’re drunk by now, sprawled haphazardly over the kitchen island. The two were sad enough to want to drink, but not motivated enough to leave the apartment. Staying in and matching shots seemed like the best solution to that dilemma.

“Your job can’t be all that bad, though. It’s supposed to be glamorous, right?” Minseok ponders. “What’s up with that Sehun guy, have you made a move yet?”

Jongin sighs deeply. “Minseok, I don’t even have time to talk to him. I’m always busy and he’s constantly in and out the office, modeling and…” he pauses, realizing that he really didn’t know much else about Sehun. “...doing whatever. Anyways, you only ever ask about my love life because you don’t want to talk about your own. What’s up?”

Minseok isn’t really a feelings guy, but his willingness to talk when drunk proves to be his one liability.

“Ugh, it’s _nothing_. Just, you know, this GUY.”

“Be more specific,” Jongin urges. Minseok could honestly be talking about math and Jongin would still listen. Anything to distract him from his current predicament.

“WELL,” Minseok starts, his speech starting to slur. “His name is _Luhan_ and he’s got these beautiful eyes and a great body and get this - he likes soccer too!!”

“Then what seems to be the problem?”

“The problem is that he won’t leave me alone and it’s going to get the both of us _fired_.”

“Wait, he’s your _co-worker?_ ”

Minseok shakes his head. “No, not exactly. Our client brought in consultants from each of their subsidiaries for this deal and Luhan’s the rep for Calvin Klein. Like, he’s actually pretty smart and has been really helpful, but I swear to god, if he grabs my ass under the table _one more time-“_

Jongin freezes. “Wait a minute,” he says. “Did you say he works for Calvin Klein?”

“Yeah, he works in their branding department. Anyways, the other day, we had a meeting to discuss post-contract management rearrangements and I said hi to him and it was nice and civil but then-“

“Minseok! Can you you give me Luhan’s number?!”

“Wow,” Minseok scoffs, a brief look of disgust crossing his face. “Working at Vogue really has changed you. All I have to do is mention that someone works for a designer brand and you immediately want to sleep with them-“

“ _No_ , it’s not like that. And besides, it doesn’t seem like you’re that interested in him-“

“NOPE, Jongin. I am not giving you Luhan’s number.”

“But why?” Jongin whines. “It could be my ticket out of this whole thing. Please?”

“No way,” Minseok says, getting up from his seat. “I don’t want you messing with my love life. You’re drunk, go home.”

“I live here!” Jongin shouts, but it’s too late. Minseok has already retreated into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

  


Jongin considers himself to be a pretty observant person, which means throughout the course of their friendship, he’s been gathering a lot of useful information about his roommate. He wakes up the next morning extremely hungover (thank god it’s Saturday) and burning with determination.

Other than his chattiness when drunk, Minseok has one more weakness: his love for downright trashy reality television. Tonight is the season finale of The Bachelor and Jongin has a plan.

He waits until eight o’clock, when Minseok sits himself down on the couch and turns on the TV for his weekly ritual of self-indulgence. Jongin watches from the kitchen, pretending to do work, and waits until the drama gets good.

The girl onscreen is sobbing hysterically and that’s when Jongin chooses to close his laptop and walk to the living room.

“Minseok, we’re friends, right?” Jongin starts, approaching from the other side of the coach.

“Yeah, sure. I guess you could say that,” Minseok responds, not even bothering to look up from the TV.

“And you could even say that we’re like, _really_ good friends, right?” Jongin continues, sitting down on the couch.

“Sure.” Minseok’s eyes are still glued to the screen.

“Like, really, _really_ good friends, right?” Jongin slides closer to Minseok, placing a hand on his thigh.

Minseok finally tears his eyes away from the TV. “Okay, what do you want? I’m trying to watch my show.”

“Friends do favors for each other, right?” Jongin says, grabbing onto Minseok’s arm.

“No, you’ve expended all your favors for this year. I don’t want to.” Minseok pulls his arm back, desperately trying to shake him off. But Jongin isn’t letting go.

“Minseok, _please_ ? I promise I’ll never ask you for anything _ever again_. I just need you to give me Luhan’s number, please?” Jongin begs.

Minseok doesn’t say anything.

“Just say yes!”

Minseok makes a gurgling noise that vaguely sounds like _fuck off_.

“PLEASE,” Jongin screeches, leaning over to use his body to block Minseok’s view of the screen.

“No, Jongin- _stop_ , this is the season finale-”

“Just say yes!” Jongin shouts. He throws himself onto Minseok.

“Fine, FINE, I’ll give you his number.” Minseok unlocks his phone and chucks it at Jongin. “Just let me watch!” He grunts and shoves Jongin, who lands on the floor with a thud.

“Okay, cool. Thanks, Minseok. You’re the best.”

By the time Jongin walks away, Luhan’s number in hand, the show has already cut to commercial.

“NO,” Minseok shrieks.

  


Kris gave Jongin the ultimatum on Friday. Jongin manages to get Luhan’s number on Saturday. Today is Sunday. He has two days left to save his job.

Jongin adjusts the buttons on his shirt, shifting nervously in his seat at the nearby Starbucks. After finally convincing Luhan that he was actually Minseok’s roommate (through a series of frenzied texts and one or two pictures he took of Minseok at the gym), they agreed to meet here for an exchange of favors - Luhan for advice about Minseok and Jongin for whatever it is he needed from Calvin Klein.

“You must be the roommate,” someone says and Jongin looks up to see that everything Minseok says about Luhan is true. He stares at he fluffy brown hair, doe eyes, and round face. If they went to bar right now, Luhan would most definitely get carded.

“Hi,” Jongin says, scrambling to stand up and offer his hand. “I’m Jongin.”

“And I’m Luhan,” the other says, giving him a firm handshake. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Okay,” Jongin agrees. “What do you want to know about Minseok?”

“Everything,” Luhan says, flashing a smile. “I want the two of us to be dating by next month. Give me as much helpful information as possible.”

A brief notion of hesitation flickers through Jongin, realizing that he’s about to sell out his roommate - and for what? A lookbook? A bunch of pictures? But then he thinks about Minseok’s life. The last time he took a vacation was probably two years ago and for god’s sake, the guy’s only hobbies were working out and watching television. This is for Minseok’s own good.

“Okay,” Jongin replies, nodding. “You’d better write this all down.”

Luhan takes out a pen and notepad, clearly prepared.

Jongin starts. “So he wakes up at five every day to go to the gym…”

By the time Jongin finishes detailing Minseok’s morning and night routines on both weekdays and weekends, Luhan has filled half a page of notes. His interests (or lack thereof) take up two lines and Luhan frowns at the fragments of information.

“Is this it?”

“Yeah,” Jongin admits. “Minseok is not a very interesting person. I don’t know what you see in him- well, I guess he is really nice. Honestly, I’m not even telling you anything that you don’t know. He likes you a lot already.”

“Oh, I already knew that,” Luhan says with wink.

“Then why am I even here?” Jongin asks. “Why are you even helping me?”

Luhan smiles wickedly. “The thing here, Jongin, is that I definitely plan on getting involved with Minseok’s life. As his roommate, you happen to be a big part of his life. I’m simply looking out for myself because doing you a favor now will allow me to cash in on something later.”

“What the fuck,” Jongin mutters and yeah, okay - Minseok had some pretty fucked up taste. Luhan sounds like a devil in disguise.

“So what does Vogue need from Calvin Klein?” Luhan says, chin resting on his hand. “I can’t get you free clothes or anything but I can give you our latest financial statements.”

Jongin looks at him, befuddled. “Isn’t that...illegal?”

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal,” Luhan waves off casually.

“Well, I need your upcoming summer lookbook,” Jongin says. “If that even means anything to you.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Luhan admits immediately. “My department doesn’t really deal with the creative side.”

“Do you know anyone who _could_ help me?” Jongin will take anything at this point.

“Like who?”

“Like a senior designer, someone in charge of photography- _oh_ , or maybe your creative director or something...”

“Whoa there,” Luhan interrupts. “You’re asking for some pretty big names. What exactly is on the line here?”

“My job,” Jongin answers flatly.

“Oh,” Luhan says. “That sucks. Look, I can’t get you any of the people you just listed, but I do know someone who might be able to help you out. I can set up a meeting for you guys.”

“Can it be tomorrow?” Jongin blurts. “I don’t want to rush you, but I need everything by Tuesday.”

“That’s pretty soon, but I don’t think it should be a problem. Krystal is a very efficient person.”

“Krystal?” The name sounds vaguely familiar, like he’s heard about a Krystal more than once, but has no idea from where. “Who is Krystal?”

“Krystal is the senior manager of visual creative services. I honestly have no idea what her division does, but judging by the name, it might be along the lines of what you’re looking for, right?” Luhan scribbles a number onto his napkin. “Here you go, it looks like you got a lunch date tomorrow.”

Jongin looks at the name on the napkin.

_Krystal Jung_

  


Jongin passes through the front entrance of Yasuda, some fancy, hole-in-the-wall sushi place that Krystal likes to go to on Mondays. The menu prices will probably have Jongin’s wallet crying into next week but it’s fine - he needs to get this lookbook.

He informs the waiter that he has a reservation for two under the name of _Krystal_ and they take him to a small table where a young woman is already sitting with two plates of sashimi.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” she says and Jongin takes in her appearance.

Krystal is wearing a fashionable navy pantsuit and pearl earrings. She has long dark hair, a petite body, and a face that looks an awful lot like-

“Jessica?” Jongin says, squinting at her. It’s definitely not Jessica but the similarities are there - her sloped nose, sharp chin, straight brows. Did Jessica have a sister or something?

“Jessica is my sister,” Krystal states, confirming Jongin’s thoughts. “If you’re here trying to charm a favor out of me, you’re not doing a very good job.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin apologizes. He takes a seat. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud, I just have a severe lack of brain-to-mouth filter.”

Krystal raises an eyebrow. “You don’t really seem like somebody who works at Vogue.”

“I don’t,” Jongin agrees. “But I need to get this lookbook for Kris or else-”

“This is for Kris?” Krystal asks, recognition crossing her face. “Wait, you’re...you’re going through The Trials right now, aren’t you?”

“How do you know about the trials?” Jongin says, dumbfounded. He honestly still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that this was a real thing.

“Because I’ve gone through the exact same thing,” Krystal says, picking up her chopsticks. “I worked under Chanyeol for about a year right after I graduated college.”

She starts laughing, as if recalling a good memory. “God, I remember when Baekhyun had to do it, his was probably the hardest one. I think Jessica was just trying to have fun with it but he tore out all the hair in his head trying to make it happen.”

“Wow, small world” Jongin says, still in awe. “Does this mean you’ll take pity and help me?”

“Of course.” Krystal takes a pinch of wasabi and spreads it on her tuna. “What do you need from Calvin Klein?”

“I need your upcoming summer lookbook. I know it’s not supposed to be released until October but-”

“You’re in luck,” Krystal says. “The person who arranges the drafts happens to owe me a favor. Can you come by the flagship store on Madison at, say, nine tonight?

“Yes,” Jongin says. “Yes, I can.”

He can’t believe his luck.

  


Jongin walks into work on Tuesday with a purpose. Kris leaves for Paris in three hours and Jongin is finally ready to prove to him that he deserves to work here.

He drops a catalog envelope on the center of Kris’ desk, landing with a heavy _plop_.

“What is this?” Kris asks, eyeing it questionably.

“It’s Calvin Klein’s summer lookbook,” Jongin replies smoothly. “They haven’t finalized the pages yet, so there are sketches and design layouts included in there as well. For light reading on your flight, of course.”

Jongin slides over a binder onto Kris’ desk as well. “Here are all the pages, unbound. In the case that you want to rearrange the book to your own liking, you can.”

Kris silently takes the lookbook out of its package, leafing through the glossy pages. He flips slowly, as if scanning every corner. He looks up when he finally reaches the end.

If Kris is feeling any emotion, his face doesn’t betray it. He just says:

“I’m sure I will have a wonderful time reading this on my flight. You may go now, Jongin.”

Jongin has just closed the door to Kris’ office when he truly realizes what just happened.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, stunned. “He called me _Jongin_.”

“Congratulations,” Jongdae says. He’s leaned back in his seat, feet up on his desk. His posture says _I don’t care_ but the smile on his face says something entirely different.

“You have _no idea_ how many favors I had to pull to make this happen,” Jongin says, falling into his own desk chair. For once, he doesn’t want to sink into it and disappear. What a feeling.

“Impressive.” Jongdae puts down his phone and leans forward. “How did you do it?”

“Friend of a friend of a friend,” Jongin admits. “Did you know that Jessica’s little sister works at Calvin Klein?”

Jongdae laughs. “It’s always like that, isn’t? Thank _god_ the guy I was sleeping with at the time was working for a vintage fashion tradeshow, or else I wouldn’t be sitting here today.”

“I can’t imagine how it was for Baekhyun,” Jongin marvels. He has a newfound respect for his fashionable friend.

“We should go out tonight,” Jongdae proposes. “Bring your friends if you want. We’re all leaving early today.”

“Wait, what?”

“Jessica said she wants everyone out of the building by three today.”

“No way,” Jongin says, sitting up. “Why?”

“Come on. Think about it, Einstein. Our editor is going to be gone for an _entire week_.”

Jongdae’s smile turns devious.

“And while Kris is away, _we’re gonna play_.”

In the middle of the afternoon, everyone leaves the office and pours into some classy bar in Uptown Manhattan. They’ve conveniently caught the place at happy hour, which Jongin has never been able to make because he usually doesn’t get out of work until late.

He’s sitting at a table with Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol, an admittedly odd combination of people, but Jongin isn’t complaining. He’s just finally glad to have some friends around the workplace. Kris has him so busy that he never gets to go down to editorial and visit Kyungsoo. This is a welcome change.

Kyungsoo is eating his late lunch, a pre-packaged cafeteria salad he didn’t get to at the office because he had been too busy editing the latest addition to their Food & Travel pages: an entire segment on cheesecake. _Cheesecake_ , Jongin thinks wistfully. He’d love to write about cheesecake, but instead, he has to run and get lattes for Kris Wu. The world is unfair.

He wordlessly takes an extra fork and invades Kyungsoo’s proximity to eat the pine nuts and avocados from his salad. His friend smiles sweetly at him - Kyungsoo hates pine nuts and avocados. It’s a little system they started up in college; Jongin will eat anything and everything so Kyungsoo just gives him whatever he doesn’t want.

Eventually, the entire conversation just turns into an audience for Chanyeol’s jokes. The guy is basically a walking disaster, but he’s funny, people love him, and he takes really good photos and- well, that’s probably why Vogue kept him around.

“No way,” Jongin says, floored. “You went to college with _Kris_?”

“He sure did,” Baekhyun grins, turning to Chanyeol. “Tell him one of those embarrassing stories that dangerously implicates our chief editor for the dork he really is.”

“Nah,” Chanyeol says, waving it off. “I’d rather do that when Kris is actually around. More fun.”

 _Well, that’s good to know_ , Jongin thinks while throwing back the last of his drink. Everyone is human, even his boss...sometimes.

“I’m going to the bar,” he announces, standing up. “Getting another drink.”

“Get me one too!” Chanyeol demands.

“No, get your own.”

Chanyeol points down at his leg brace, still healing from a dislocated knee. “Do you _really_ want me to limp around to the bar and get my own drink? I’ll probably knock like five or six people to the ground before I even get there.”

“Ugh,” Jongin groans. “Fine.”

He’s waiting on two vodka sodas when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“Sehun!” he says, turning around in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Irene heard from Wendy that everyone was here and I wanted to look for you,” Sehun says sheepishly and _god, he’s so perfect_. Any expression that Sehun makes honestly belongs on the cover of a magazine.

“Well, I’m glad to see you,” Jongin says, trying to play it cool. Sehun is wearing an oversized Hawaiian shirt paired with a sequined denim jacket - possibly the two ugliest pieces of clothing Jongin has ever encountered. And yet, he still looks hot as fuck. _Well_ , he thinks. _I guess that’s fashion_.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Sehun begins, clearing his throat. “Is Kyungsoo your boyfriend?”

Jongin flinches so hard, he almost takes a step back. “No!” he says, bringing his hands up. “He’s like my best friend but- god, _no_. Why would you think that?”

“I know you guys are pretty close and I saw you sharing food, so I thought…”

“No,” Jongin denies again. “We are definitely not dating.”

“Okay, great.” Sehun steps a little closer into Jongin’s personal space. “In that case, there’s something else I wanted to ask you.”

 _Holy shit. Is this really happening?_ Actual Greek God, Oh Sehun, possibly the hottest person in the entire world, is about to ask him out. Jongin wishes he wore something nicer today.

“What...did you want to ask?”

“Do you want to get dinner sometime?” Sehun gives him a dazzling smile that shines brighter than the Swarovski crystal necklaces he delivered to Jessica this morning.

“Yes,” Jongin says before he can freeze up and ruin this entire thing. “I would love to.”

“Awesome,” Sehun replies. “So it’s a date.”

  


Everytime Jongin thinks that things are getting better, something happens to prove him wrong. At this point, he should probably just stop being optimistic at all.

That night, Kris sends out a memo of everything he wants the publication to finish by the time he returns from Paris. _Milan Fashion Week is in two weeks_ , it says. _Please do not disappoint me_.

Jongin has to cancel on Sehun because he stays late at the office to put together Kris’ travel itinerary. Jongdae had handed him a list of acceptable hotels, restaurant suggestions, and Kris’ dietary restrictions. The assignment has him making phone calls all day and night, staying up until four in the morning just to accommodate the Italian time difference.

It’s tragic, because Sehun cancels on him next. His management gave him a hectic schedule that has him flying all over Europe for test shoots and pre-show fittings and _great_. Just wonderful. The one time his crush actually gets around to asking him out and they’re both too busy to even go out on a single date.

Jongin is in Kris’ office again, feeling like he’s being scrutinized even though his boss doesn’t even bother to look up when he knocks.

“The Literacy Foundation wants to meet next Wednesday to discuss the details of the upcoming gala,” Kris says, sifting through the periodicals. “However, I will be out of country for Milan Fashion Week, so Jongdae must stay to speak with them on that matter. Please let him know that you will be traveling in his stead.”

“Wait, what?” Jongin perks up, alarmed. “I’m going to Italy?”

“Yes, that’s what I said. Please ask Baekhyun to make the necessary wardrobe arrangements for you. We leave in three days.”

“Wardrobe...arrangements?”

“Jongin,” Kris says, looking up seriously. “Don’t be stupid. You will be seen with me at all times while we are in Milan. I certainly can’t afford to let you be photographed while wearing your _own_ outfits. We have Baekhyun around for a reason.”

“Right,” Jongin nods. “Of course. God forbid someone see me in my own clothes.”

Kris doesn’t rise to the sarcasm bait. He just says, “that’s all for today.”

Jongdae isn’t sitting at his desk when Jongin leaves Kris’ office, an odd occurrence. He walks around the halls, hits up editorial, and even ventures down to Kibum’s studio with no sign of Jongdae. How strange.

Jongdae doesn’t pick up his phone after the first two calls either. Jongin calls a third time, just to be safe.

After the fourth ring, he finally picks up.

“What,” Jongdae spits, his contempt coming across very clearly over the line.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting anything?” Jongin asks guiltily. “I couldn’t find you anywhere in the office.”

“Well, that’s because I’m not at the office,” Jongdae snaps. A brief pause. “Sorry, I’ve had a rough morning. I think someone famous is in town, I cannot get _anywhere_ without running into hordes of people.”

“Oh. When will you be back?”

“Soon, don’t worry. I just had to drop by Parson’s to pick up some designs for Baekhyun because apparently, printed tulle is a new trend, whichever fashion-illiterate bonehead came up with _that_ one. When I get back to the office, I swear, I’m going to-”

Jongin doesn’t get to hear what Jongdae has to say next because all that comes is the sound of a loud crash, followed by several car horns.

“Jongdae?!” he says. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Goddamnit!” he hears Jongdae scream.

And then the line goes dead.

 

-

 

Three hours later, Jongin finds himself at the hospital, visiting a bed-ridden Jongdae who has definitely seen better days.

“God, _look at me_ ,” Jongdae says, attacking the dinner a nurse just brought him. “I’m a mess.”

Jongin doesn’t want to argue because, well, he _is_ a mess - there’s a huge bruise on his cheek, bandages littered all over his arms, and worst of all…

He’s wearing a neck brace.

“Jongdae, I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck are you sorry for,” Jongdae fumes, viciously tearing open a package of dry crackers. “It’s not your fault that taxi drivers have little regard for human life. Jesus Christ, I get hit by a car and it has to be a _taxi_ . Not even a limo, or at _least_ a Lexus.”

He angrily crushes the crackers into his soup and stirs ferociously. “And you know what gets me about this entire thing?” he continues, spooning food into his mouth. “It’s that Milan Fashion Week is in _three days_ and I’m going to have to roll up to Italy looking like this.”

“That-well, you’re not...um,” Jongin stutters. “That’s what I needed to tell you when I called you. You’re not...going to Milan.”

Jongdae looks at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“Kris needs you to stay behind to take care of the gala and he said I have to go in your place…”

Jongin searches Jongdae’s face for a sign of anger. Or just any emotion in general. But he doesn’t find anything because Jongdae’s expression remains blank, silent and thinking.

“Jongdae, I’m really sorry about-”

Jongdae raises his hand. Jongin immediately shuts up.

“Thank you,” Jongdae says, “for delivering the best news I’ve heard all week.”

“Wait, what?” Jongin says, surprised. “I thought you would mad if-”

“Look at me, Jongin. Italy is great and all, but New York already has the best pasta the world can offer. My beautiful face is too marred for the press right now and honestly, like _honestly_...tell me I don’t look ugly in this neck brace.”

“I...don’t want to lie to you, Jongdae.”

“Exactly. And besides, do I really look like I want to spend an entire week in Italy with _Kris Wu_?”

And that’s when Jongin realizes that perhaps he should be feeling sorry for himself instead of Jongdae.

  


Jongin just stares, overwhelmed by the numerous clothing racks being wheeled around him.

“For the Vivienne Westwood show, I think we’ll do _this-_ ” Baekhyun holds up an embroidered bomber to Jongin’s body “-paired with _this_ -” he holds up a thin ribbed sweater “-because it won’t be cold in Milan, but just chilly enough for this to be comfortable.”

“Is this all necessary?” Jongin asks, shifting around as an intern lopes a tape measure around his waist.

“Yes, we need to take your measurements in case any of the pieces need adjustment-”

“No, I meant all of _this_.” Jongin gestures to the racks of clothes, the outfit sketches pinned to the wall, the growing number of garments in Baekhyun’s yes-pile.

Baekhyun just scoffs. “Of course. When you’re in Milan, you need to look presentable every second of the day. Even when you’re sleeping. That’s why I got you these Fendi silk pajamas. Jaehyun, can you please-”

A fashion intern runs to Baekhyun’s side and hands him a box. Baekhyun takes off the lid and peels out the tissue paper inside to reveal a matching set of baby blue sleepwear with white piping and delicate buttons. It probably costs more than Jongin’s rent.

“You can’t be serious,” Jongin says, backing away. “You can’t do this.”

“I can and I will.” Baekhyun puts the pajamas to the side. “Let’s move on. What’s next on your schedule- _ooh_ , it’s Lagerfeld's cocktail soiree, how nice. For this, I think an appropriate path to take would be-”

“Can we take a break?” Jongin asks. “I feel like I can’t breathe. Just a tiny break.”

Baekhyun holds his gaze for a moment and sighs. “Fine.”

He turns to the interns. “You two, out. Leave us alone for ten minutes.”

As they scurry away, Baekhyun shuts the door behind them.

“I feel like it was just yesterday that you started working here,” he says, looking at Jongin wistfully. “I’m going to really miss you.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Jongin asks, tilting his head in confusion.

Baekhyun gives him a pointed look. “Use your brain, sugar cane. What do you _think_ I’m talking about?”

“Are you trying to say...no, wait- don’t tell me...don’t tell me you’re _leaving_ Vogue...”

“Jongin,” Baekhyun says, sitting down next to him. “Ask me how long I’ve been working at here.”

“Okay. How long have you been working at Vogue?”

“FOUR YEARS.” Baekhyun holds up four fingers, as if Jongin is a preschooler who doesn’t know how to count. “I’ve been working at this magazine for _four years_.”

“Okay,” Jongin repeats lamely. “What are you trying to say?”

“What I’m saying is that after working at this publication for four years, my efforts are finally being reward. My child, I am destined for great things, and I want you to be one of the first to know.”

“Did you get a new job? What’s going on?”

Baekhyun’s expression turns smug. “You might have noticed that Kris has been meeting with Kim Taeyeon for quite some time now. Jongdae tried to hide it, but nothing really gets past me. And last week, Jessica and I finally figured out what it is they’ve been planning.”

He takes Jongin’s hand in his, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Kim Taeyeon is going to launch her own fashion label and she asked yours truly to sign on as her creative director.”

“Baekhyun, oh my god!” Jongin’s face lights up. “This is great. That’s an amazing position - you’re going to be designing clothes.”

“I know!” Baekhyun squeals. “I’m so excited - it’s literally everything I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“This is wonderful,” Jongin smiles. It’s bittersweet. “When are you leaving?”

“Vogue will be throwing Taeyeon a celebration party while we are in Milan. It will be the talk of the town - _everyone_ who’s a somebody is invited. That’s when Taeyeon is going to announce to the world that I’m her lucky guy.” He sighs dramatically. “Such a shame that Jongdae can’t be there to see me in my glory. I’ve finally one-upped him.”

Then his expression turns tender, uncontrollably fond.

“I’ve already sent in my notice. Took a bit of convincing, but Jessica is finally on board. After we get back from Milan, I’m packing up my desk and leaving for Korea.”

He ruffles Jongin’s hair. “I meant it when I said that I’ll miss you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Jongin replies. “I’ll miss you too.”

He is happy for Baekhyun. He really is.

  


For the first time in his entire life, Jongin flies in first class.

It seems like a fever dream - the private cabin, luxurious legroom, and flutes of champagne. He peeks over the divide to see Kris casually applying a face mask while flipping through the pages of-

The Calvin Klein summer lookbook. Of course. Jongin’s heart swells with pride at the sight.

When they reach Linate airport, a plethora of reports and paparazzi are there to greet them.

“Kris Wu, Kris Wu, over here!” they all shout, flashing away mercilessly with their cameras.

They’re quickly whisked away by a limo, soon arriving at the grand halls of Bulgari Milano, an upscale establishment offering a five-star spa (a feature that Kris had specifically requested). Jongin had been the one to book the stay but he still finds himself in awe, gaping at the chandeliers and tall marble pillars. He had done his research, considered every last detail for the sake of Kris’ comfort, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

Kris’ Royale Suite is majestic, fit for a king. Clawfoot tub in the bathroom, a living room that Kris probably won’t even use, and a balcony overlooking a beautiful private terrace. The Egyptian cotton sheets have a thread count of 1800 - Jongin knows because he looked it up.

Jongin’s connected suite is just as impressive. _I don’t need this much room_ , he thinks, marveling at the tall ceilings. But then the interns start wheeling in all the clothes that Baekhyun packed for him and _alright_ , maybe some of this was necessary.

He accompanies Kris to a dinner that night, some fancy pre-show affair that was organized by Calvin Klein. Upon arriving at the restaurant, Kris grabs a glass of wine and drinks it all at once.

“I’ll be with Jessica if you need me,” he says, handing off his empty glass. There’s a hint of irritation in his voice. “Go socialize and don’t make a fool of yourself.” And then he disappears into the crowd.

 _Great_ , Jongin thinks. Kris is probably mad about something and he has no idea what. He looks around only to realize that he doesn’t know anyone here. Jongin certainly recognizes a lot of people - models and designers and celebrities he’s seen off of magazine pages, but there’s no way in hell he’d ever gain the nerve to _talk_ to them. No way, Jose.

After Baekhyun ditches him for some prime schmoozing with the editor of Vogue Korea, Jongin is left sulking by the hors d’oeuvres (which he only recently found out was _not_ pronounced “horse divorce”). He’s about to consume his weight in raspberry pastries when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, you,” Krystal says, handing him a full glass. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

“Me?” Jongin asks, taking the wine. “Why?”

“Well,” Krystal starts, her smile turning coy. “A friend of mine models for CK and he’s been brooding all night because Milan Fashion Week is currently cockblocking him from his latest crush. You might know him? Tall, blonde, unbelievably broad shoulders, goes by the name of Sehun?”

“Oh my god, Sehun is here?” Jongin’s eyes dart around the room, looking for him.

“You guys are hopeless,” Krystal laughs. She points to the balcony. “He’s getting some fresh air right now. I think you’d better go.”

“I think so too.” Jongin puts down the wine and straightens the lapels of his evening jacket. “How do I look?”

Krystal rolls her eyes. “If Baekhyun dressed you, then there’s nothing to worry about. Just _go._ ”

“Thank you!” he calls out before navigating through the masses of people. There’s men in suits, women in dresses, and everyone here is beautiful, dressed to the nines, but Jongin only cares about one person.

  


After the Miu Miu show, Jongin sheds all his expensive clothes (but not without putting them in their wardrobe bags or else Baekhyun would have his head) and changes into something more comfortable. His flannel, the one Jongdae had insulted on day one, and a ratty old hoodie that’s faded from countless cycles in the wash.

Sehun told him to dress casual for tonight. _I know you’re tired of playing dress-up all day although I think it looks great_ , he had said and Jongin had blushed uncontrollably. God, this man is perfect.

He hails a taxi and relays the address that Sehun had texted him. It’s in Italian and Jongin has no idea where it is. He thinks about last night, the conversation, the drinks, and the way Sehun had-

Jongin’s heart rate speeds up just thinking about it.

The way Sehun had kissed him.

_“Are you free tomorrow night?” Sehun asked, idly swirling the wine in his glass. “It’s the one day I don’t have to prep for a show.”_

_Jongin smiled. “It’s your lucky day, because I do happen to be free tomorrow. Kris cancelled on Givenchy’s evening show so we could have a night off.”_

_“Well, I’m not complaining,” Sehun laughed, his eyes twinkling brighter than the stars above. “Givenchy isn’t that great anyways.”_

_There was loud a commotion coming from inside, the event coordinator demanding that all the Calvin Klein models gather together for a group photo._

_“Well,” Sehun said sadly. “Duty calls.”_

_“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jongin asked, letting his gaze linger._

_Sehun leaned in close. Jongin suddenly found it hard to breathe, his lips caught in a kiss. He gasped, opening his mouth in surprise, and Sehun kissed him again, a phantom sensation on the tongue._

_He pulled back, smug._

_“You’ll see me tomorrow.”_

If anything like yesterday happens again today, Jongin will set himself on fire and die from happiness. Life has just been too good to him lately. Working at Vogue might be a roller coaster and getting yelled at by Kris Wu probably shaved five years off his life expectancy, but at least he has Sehun’s beautiful face to console him about it.

He steps out of the taxi to a cozy street corner. Sehun is waiting for him, wearing jeans and a leather jacket. He pulls off simple in a way that has Jongin feeling all complicated inside. He’ll never look at denim the same after seeing it on Sehun’s body.

“Is this-” Jongin looks around, seeing storefronts with signs in mandarin “-Chinatown?”

“Yes,” Sehun confirms. “Truly the best part of Milan.”

Jongin snorts. “You’ve been here a lot, haven’t you?”

“What can I say?” Sehun says, fake-bowing. “My work takes me everywhere.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jongin laughs. “Let’s go eat, I’m hungry.”

Sehun takes them to a tiny Chinese restaurant, it’s authentic down to its rude waiters and the fish tank that sits right at the entrance. There’s a fortune cat statue sitting by the cash register and Jongin is honestly charmed by how New York it feels.

“I promise the food is good,” Sehun says as they look through a menu written in Italian and Chinese.

“Since you’ve obviously been here before, you should just order for me,” Jongin suggests, closing his menu. “I have no idea what any of this says.”

“Alright,” Sehun agrees and when the waiter comes by, he relays their order in a string of perfect Italian.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian.” Jongin looks at Sehun in awe. Could this man get any sexier?

“Well,” Sehun says, winking. “I’m a man of many talents.”

  


It’s almost midnight by the time they leave. Jongin is about to call for a taxi when Sehun stops him, shaking his head.

“No need, I’ll just take you home.”

“What?” Jongin asks. “You drove?”

Sehun just grins. “Well, sort of.”

He leads them to a parking area near the restaurant. They walk past rows and rows of cars, finally coming to stop at-

“A _Vespa_?” Jongin asks. “You rode this here?”

“Yeah, I always rent one when I’m here,” Sehun replies, shrugging. “You know, for the full Italian experience.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jongin marvels. “I love it.”

“I knew you would.” Sehun tosses him a helmet. “Hop on.”

The ride is thrilling. Well, as thrilling as a scooter ride can get. The streets of Milan aren’t exactly busy and Sehun takes the time to show Jongin the landmarks, circling around beautiful cathedrals and the bustling canal district. The night air makes Jongin shiver, but he uses that as an excuse to hold Sehun tighter. It’s almost disappointing when Sehun pulls up to the entrance of his hotel.

“Today was great, I loved it,” Jongin says, giving back the helmet.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Then Sehun pauses, like he’s trying to piece something together in his head.

“What are you thinking about?” Jongin asks. “You’re making me nervous.”

“It’s nothing,” Sehun chuckles. “It’s just that…”

“Just what?”

“I really like you and I want to take this slow, if that’s alright with you,” Sehun answers, almost shy. “And if I take you home now, there’s no guarantee that I would be able to walk down the runway tomorrow, if you know what I mean.”

Jongin flushes, bright red.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I really like you too,” he mutters, eyes darting to the ground, the light pole, the grass, anything but Sehun’s face.

“You’re so cute,” Sehun laughs and Jongin’s ability to think just completely withers.

“I-no, _you’re_ cute,” he sputters and that just makes Sehun laugh even harder.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, kissing Jongin casually before driving away.

Jongin stays glued to the spot, watching Sehun disappear. He has to wait a good five minutes for his heart to calm down. When he finally gets up to his suite, he notices that Kris’ light is still on.

 _Well, that’s weird_ , he thinks. Kris is busy tomorrow, has a day packed full of shows and soirees and meetings. His boss would never miss out his beauty sleep.

“Kris?” he asks, knocking lightly.

The door suddenly opens, Kris leaning against its frame. He’s wearing ridiculous silk pajamas (identical to the ones Baekhyun had packed for Jongin, which he refused to wear) and a white terry robe, appearing uncharacteristically disheveled.

Jongin looks past him, at the tea table behind, where two opened bottles are sitting. Kris has been drinking and of _course_ , he’s a wine guy.

“Kris, are you okay?”

“Not really,” Kris answers. “You want to come in and talk for a bit?”

“Um, okay,” Jongin says lamely. He doesn’t want to, but he kind of feels a little guilty from going on a night out while Kris had been cooped up in here, clearly stressed out about something.

He sits down at the sofa, awkwardly arranging his limbs as Kris pours himself another glass of wine, refusing when Kris offers some.

“Alright, suit yourself,” Kris mutters, taking a generous sip.

Jongin watches as Kris settles into his own seat, his face in a faraway expression, like he’s thinking about everything and nothing all at once.

“Jongin,” he says suddenly. “Do you like working at Vogue?”

_Is this a trick question?_

“I do,” Jongin answers. It’s not exactly a lie. “It’s not the career path I originally wanted, but I like it.”

“I do too,” Kris agrees. “I love working at Vogue. I’ve been here for the last...how many years? I can’t even count. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.”

Jongin stays completely silent, nodding as Kris continues speaking.

“Fashion is alluring and glamorous, but not a lot of people think to work in publication. It’s not exactly the dream job that gets you on covers. We _make_ the covers, you know? Behind the scenes.”

He takes another sip of wine.

“I have a friend who’s been in the industry for...god, even longer than I have. They’re about to leave their job to do something they’ve always dreamed about and it made me think...is this it? Being chief editor used to be my dream but now I can’t help but realize...things are becoming complacent.”

He sighs deeply, turning his eyes down with a numb expression. Jongin is suddenly struck with confidence.

“Kris, you know what I think?” he says. “I think that millions of people read Vogue every month for a reason. You have unparalleled experience, an amazing staff behind you, and I think that you’re fulfilling a million fashion dreams everyday just by being who you are.”

Kris looks at him, considering his words. He looks a little more sober but then again, Jongin can never tell with Kris.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asks. “Do you want me to cancel anything?”

“No,” Kris answers, putting himself in order. He stands up and corks the two bottles of wine. “We will resume tomorrow at the normal schedule.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

  


Jongin wakes up the morning of Taeyeon’s celebration party with a nervous jitter in his body. Kris had planned the entire thing, which means it’s going to be perfect, but Jongin just has a bad feeling about today. He skips breakfast and goes straight into his fitting with Baekhyun, who laments that this might be one of the last times he’ll ever get to style him.

The celebration is set up like a press announcement and doubles as a brunch, scheduled to end before noon so everyone can disperse to their respective shows later in the day. Journalists from major publications were invited, as well as a guest list of countless celebrities that had Jongin’s head reeling after Jongdae informed him that he would definitely have to remember all the names. The event is being catered by Wolfgang Puck himself and Kris had personally selected the items on the menu.

Jongin sprints through the halls of the venue, desperately searching for the sommelier (because Kris demanded they only serve red wine in order to match the decorations), when he catches the snippets of a conversation that’s definitely meant for private ears.

“...and everyone thinks he’s a genius, but let me tell you. Kris Wu is nothing but old news.”

 _Oh my god_ , Jongin thinks, immediately sticking to the wall and making himself as flat as possible. _I am NOT supposed to be hearing this_.

“Anyways, he’s delusional if he thinks he can stay in charge of Vogue for any longer. I’ve already secured a meeting with the publisher’s chairman, he thinks the magazine needs a change in direction and as you can imagine, Kris is _not_ receptive with that…”

Wait a minute. That voice. It’s…

Jongin opens his mouth in shock, barely repressing a gasp. It’s _Kibum_.

“Are you serious?” someone says, a voice Jongin doesn’t recognize. “Kris has an iron fist over the entire staff, there’s no way they’ll take a change in leadership like that.”

Their footsteps get closer and Jongin is pretty sure that his heart is beating so loud, all of Milan can hear it. Maybe if he believes in himself hard enough, he can disappear into the wall and live on as a piece of plaster. Maybe Sehun can walk by and lean on him and Jongin can finally be satisfied with his life.

“It’s not like I’m some stranger to Vogue,” Kibum continues. “All I’m saying is that by this time next year, it could be me in that office instead of Kris. Mark my words.”

They get closer and closer, slowly approaching the corner where Jongin is hiding and then-

They walk right past him, clearly too engrossed in their chat to notice that he’s even there.

 _Oh my god_ , Jongin thinks.

_I need to tell Kris._

  


“Where the _hell_ have you been,” Kris hisses when Jongin has finally managed to located his boss. If he’s hungover from all that wine last night, he doesn’t show it. Kris Wu looks impeccable.

The party is in full swing. There’s famous actors and designers, mingling around posh breakfast foods. Taeyeon is wearing a beautiful blue princess gown, certainly over-the-top for something so early in the morning, but it is her celebration after all. She’s situated at the open bar next to Jessica, the two of them laughing loudly at some joke that Chanyeol just told (although Jessica honestly looks like she’s about to kill someone). Baekhyun loiters by the stage, excitedly making small talk with the owner of some Italian textile company.

“Kris,” Jongin says, frantic. “I need to tell you something-”

Suddenly, all conversation halts with a loud chiming noise. Taeyeon taps a spoon against her crystal glass, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen!” she greets, standing at the podium of the ballroom. “Thank you so much for coming to this lovely event that my friends over at Vogue have organized for me.”

There’s a smattering of applause and Jongin takes this as an opportunity to try again.

“ _Kris_ ,” he whispers furiously. “I need to tell you that-”

“ _Be quiet_ ,” Kris snaps, scathing.

Jongin falls silent and redirects his attention to the focus of the room. Kris clearly doesn’t want to talk.

And besides, this is going to be Baekhyun’s big moment. Jongin wants to see the look on his friend’s face when he undoubtedly makes a tearful speech about how excited he is to leave Vogue and work with Taeyeon.

“As you all may know,” Taeyeon continues, poised beautifully at the mic. “I will be launching my own fashion label next fall. And everyone has been asking me, just _dying_ to know who’s going to be onboard with me when it all happens.”

She pauses for dramatic effect.

“It’s going to come as a surprise - even to the man himself - but the person I’ve chosen to lead the direction of my brand as its creative director is the one and only-”

 _This is it. This is Baekhyun’s time to shine_.

“Kim Kibum!”

_Wait...what?_

A burst of applause fills the room. Kibum’s face is a vision of pure surprise.

“Come up here!” Taeyeon calls, motioning him to the podium.

“Oh my god,” Kibum says. “I had no idea.”

“I know this is sudden,” Taeyeon continues, smiling brightly. “But after long discussions with my good friends, Kris Wu and Jessica Jung, I think this is the best choice I could have possibly made. Do you accept the job? Please say yes!”

“Bitch! Of course I’ll accept!” Kibum screams ecstatically, hugging Taeyeon in a winning shot that has camera shutters going off nonstop.

Jongin looks to Baekhyun, who’s watching the entire scene with a very tight smile, clapping nonetheless. If he’s devastated, it doesn’t show. He’s the textbook definition of cordial as he shakes hands with Kibum, congratulating him on his new partnership.

Later, when the press has all filed out and the comotion has died down, Jongin pulls Baekhyun aside.

“What’s going on?” he asks, concerned.

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun admits. “But I’m sure Jessica had a good reason for passing it over to Kibum.”

Jongin frowns. “Are you sure? This was supposed to be _your_ dream job.”

“It is.” Baekhyun pauses. “It _was_. But I can’t think about it too much now.”

He gives Jongin a half smile, blinking back tears. Jongin feels his heart break in two.

“Why not? Baekhyun, I don’t understand-”

“Jessica has always looked out for the best of me. Kris too. I trust them with my life. They would never do that to me. I just need to keep having faith.” Baekhyun says this with conviction, but the look on his face tells Jongin that he’s having doubts of his own.

“Alright, well-” Jongin looks across the room to where Kris and Taeyeon are in deep discussion “-I have to take Kris to the Versace show. Just...let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m one call away.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Baekhyun laughs weakly. “I would never call you in the middle of a show. That’s a deadly sin.”

Jongin shoots him a rueful smile before running to Kris’ side.

He hopes Baekhyun will be okay.

  


The car ride to the Versace show is quiet. Kris doesn’t utter a word as Jongin hands him his agenda for the day, listing what they’ll do, where they’ll be, and who they’ll see.

It’s only when they pass the halfway point of their journey that Jongin finally breaks the silence with a question that’s been on his mind since this morning’s party.

“Did you know? About Taeyeon?”

“Of course,” Kris says flippantly, paging through his schedule. “We’ve been meeting since last year.”

“No, I meant about Taeyeon and Kibum. It was supposed to be Baekhyun, right? It was supposed to be his job.” Jongin is rambling, but he doesn't care. Baekhyun is a great guy and he deserved what he wanted. Jongin continues talking.

“Baekhyun was supposed to finally stop being an assistant and leave Vogue for good. He was supposed to land his dream job, working with Kim Taeyeon, making a name for himself, and we just saw him get snubbed out of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity- ”

Kris just looks at him blankly.

“-and I just can’t believe Jessica would pass him over like that. I mean, he’s been working for her for _four years_.” Jongin puts his hands in his heads, lost in his thought. “Does this have something to do with Jessica and Taeyeon? I just don’t know what to say. I thought she was really looking out for Baekhyun.”

The car stops at a red light and Kris looks out for a moment, taking in the throngs of people crossing the street. The morning crowd in Milan is shockingly average, everyone running to work and catching the bus. A couple more blocks and the scene will completely change, filled with celebrities and models and outsiders too, people just dying to get a glimpse of a world they could never reach. That’s just how fashion week is and Jongin is shocked that for once in his life, he’s looking out from the inside of it all.

“Jongin,” Kris says. “You do know that nothing goes on around here without my knowledge of it?”

“Did you know, then?” Jongin asks. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Kibum has always been overly ambitious.” Kris crosses his legs, speaking in a frank manner. “He imposes too much of himself on the publication. It was actually I who suggested that Taeyeon hire Kibum instead of Baekhyun, and I think that the creative direction of that decision will-

“ _What_ ?” Jongin interrupts. “No, that can’t be true. Kibum was going to take _your_ job, that’s what I was trying to warn you about, before- “

“You think I don’t know what goes on in my office? Of course I knew Kibum wanted my job. He always has. I think he’ll find himself in a better place with Taeyeon. For now, Baekhyun will just have to stay put and- ”

“This can’t be real.” Jongin is beyond belief right now. “Baekhyun trusted you-”

He thinks to the conversation he had with Baekhyun this morning.

“-he _still_ trusts you. And here you are, sacrificing his entire career just so you can save your ass and boss everyone around a little longer. You know, Kris, for a while, I was actually beginning to think you were okay. Everyone at the office is always telling me to give it a second chance, saying that you might be hard to please but you’re doing the best job that anyone could possibly do.”

Kris doesn’t say a word, face impressively stoic.

“But they’re wrong,” Jongin continues. He’s surprised at the hurt in his own voice. “You don’t care. You don’t care about any of us. You never did. You just- I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.”

The car brakes at another light and Jongin takes the opportunity to fling the door open and get out. Kris might’ve said something as he left, but he doesn’t care. This isn't what he signed up for. None of this is.

Jongin walks a good two blocks away from the car before flagging down a taxi and returning to his suite. He books the next plane ticket home and starts packing his bags.

Three hours later, he’s sitting in coach, watching the flight attendants make their last rounds before takeoff. He knows Kris’ fashion week schedule by heart, knows that he should be in Navigli right now, eating lunch with the editor of Vogue Korea. Jongin wonders who’s going to open the door for Kris, who’s going to run to the kitchen and tell them that Kris doesn’t doesn’t like pine nuts, that Kris can pick out flavors from a mile away and they might as well start making a new batch of pesto right now. Then he realizes that he doesn’t care.

This isn’t Jongin’s job anymore. He doesn’t need to care.

Kris Wu can kiss his ass.

  


After he gets back, Jongin just mopes around the apartment all day long. Milan had taken a lot out of him. He’s tired and sad and it’s not because of the jetlag.

“You’re doing the furniture thing again,” Minseok sighs.

“I can’t help it, okay?” Jongin’s voice comes out muffled. His face is shoved into a pillow.

“Come _on_ ,” Minseok says, shoving Jongin off the bed. “Get up. Go outside or something. Get some fresh air.” He pulls the blankets off of him and Jongin shivers from the exposure.

“Okay, okay,” he groans, slowly getting up. Jongin glowers at his roommate, who’s dressed in jeans and a button-up. It’s a far stretch from his regular weekend attire of tanks and sweatpants.

“Wait, are you going somewhere?”

“I’m going out. Just a lunch date.”

“With Luhan?”

“No,” Minseok replies immediately, an obvious lie.

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

Minseok hits him on the shoulder. “Whatever, man. Stop sleeping so much, I don’t want to see you in this apartment when I get back.” He leaves Jongin’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Jongin groans again. He’ll have to call Yixing about those desk shifts.

Eventually, Jongin does muster the momentous amount of effort that it takes to get himself out of bed and back to the studio. Yixing had welcomed him with open arms, glad to see his friend again.

Once everyone from the master class files out, even the lingering students hoping to get the last word with Yixing, Jongin wipes down all the mirrors and hands his shift off to the next part-timer. Then he grabs his bag and rushes out the exit. There’s a nap with his name on it at home and he can’t wait to be unconscious.

He walks out the door and runs right into-

“Sehun,” he gasps in surprise.

“I thought I might find you here,” Sehun says, smiling fondly. “You have lunch plans?”

“Well, I was going to nap but…” Jongin stares at Sehun, who, as usual, looks amazing. His hair is unstyled today, rustling gently with the breeze. The streets of New York are trash but Sehun makes them look like how they do in all the movies. Jongin sighs internally.

“I guess I’ll eat with you instead.”

“Good,” Sehun grins, taking Jongin’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Because I really miss you.”

“Why?” Jongin laughs. “I saw you two days ago.”

He did, when Sehun took him out to some fancy french place. Then they went to a broadway show, where Jongin found himself paying more attention to the man next to him rather than the men and women on stage singing about phantoms and operas (he’s seen this musical a million times, living in New York can do that to you).

Afterwards, Sehun had insisted he stay over, convincingly pulling him back to his studio apartment. They had stumbled through the elevator, barely keeping their hands off each other as Sehun dug for his keys and opened the door. Then he shoved Jongin down onto his bed, peeling off his own shirt in the process, and Jongin just couldn’t believe his luck.

He came home the next morning to an inquisitive Minseok, who eyed the marks on his neck and proceeded to ask a million questions, starting with _how is your sex life going better than your professional one? That has_ **_got_ ** _to be a first_.

“Well, I haven’t seen you around the office much,” Sehun notes. “Haven’t seen you at all, actually.”

“I haven’t been to the office yet,” Jongin confirms, unable to conceal the bitterness in his voice. “I technically quit, it’s complicated.”

“Oh, that’s weird.”

“Why?”

“Because the nameplate on your desk still says Jongin.”

“Really?” Jongin asks, surprised. “They should get rid of that.”

“Maybe not.” Sehun’s face turns serious. “I think they’re still waiting for you to come back.”

“No way.” Jongin shakes his head, unconvinced. “Not after what I did to Kris.”

“What, you mean leave him alone in the middle of Milan? Kris is a grown man, he can handle himself. Did you get a termination email, or at least something in the mail?”

Jongin frowns. He hadn’t thought about that at all.

Later, when he gets home, Jongin jiggles a key into the unit mailbox, shaking it just the right amount to get it unlocked. It creaks open, slowly revealing-

Nothing.

 _Huh_ , Jongin thinks. Maybe Minseok already got the mail.

  


Job searching is as soul-sucking now as it was four months ago. Maybe even more. Being awake becomes hard when all Jongin does is think about his problems. After working another early studio shift, he decides to take a morning nap.

“But you just woke up!” Minseok scolds, grabbing a piece of toast before heading off to work.

“Whatever,” Jongin mutters, plunging face first into the couch cushions.

Not much later, he’s begrudgingly awoken by the incessant buzzing of his phone.

 

[9:36] _WHERE ARE YOU???_

[9:36] _jongin the gala is today!!!!!!!!_

[9:37] _omg pls respond!!!_

 

“Huh?” Jongin mumbles, barely deciphering the texts. They’re from Baekhyun. Then his phone starts ringing. He picks it up.

“Hello-”

“GET YOUR ASS TO THE OFFICE NOW,” Jongdae screams.

“Jongdae? What’s going on-”

“I swear to god, Jongin, if you don’t come right now, I am going to _murder you_ . I’ve been running around all morning and I’m at the end of my wits. If you leave me to handle the gala alone, I _will_ end your life.”

“I don’t understand-”

“Get here by ten.”

“Wait, but I don’t-”

“If you don’t,” Jongdae threatens. “I’m coming over to drag you here myself.”

And then there’s a click. Jongdae hung up on him.

“No fucking way,” Jongin mutters, jumping off the couch and running to his room. He pilages through his closet as fast as he can, grabbing a blazer and his best pair of work slacks.

Baekhyun isn’t here to help him now. He’ll just have to dress himself this time.

Jongin arrives to find the office in complete disarray, a chaos of scurrying interns and hectic staff members. He sees Jongdae in a frenzied state, barking out orders menacingly. Well, as menacing as someone can be while wearing a neck brace.

“Fuck, I just got a call from the airport. Zedd is going to be late, who the FUCK is going to DJ for the pre-reception- _holy shit_.” Jongdae runs up to Jongin, squeezing his shoulders. “I never thought I would ever say this, but I am so glad to see you.”

“You are?” Jongin squeaks.

“Honey, we are are a MESS right now. Kris and Jessica are already at the venue, handling setup, but we have a million and one things to get done here, so let’s go! CHOP CHOP!!”

Jongin hasn’t been to work in nearly a week but it’s scary, really, how easily he falls back into the routine of things. No one looks at him any different either, despite his brief absence. It’s like he never left. Jongin is flying through the halls, delivering documents, confirming bookings, and redirecting volunteers. Chanyeol needs help packing up his equipment and after that, Wendy can’t find the setting spray she needs. Jongin helps with that too, trying to locate the brand so they can get Jessica’s makeup carrier to the ballroom on time.

He and Jongdae work straight through lunch and the entirety of the afternoon, the two of them executing a task list that Kris had no doubt expected to be finished perfectly. Two hours before the event, Jongin about to leave in the next car, a box of table place cards in hand, when Jongdae stops him by the elevator.

“Uh-huh. You are NOT wearing that to the gala. Go see Baekhyun right now. You can take the next car.”

“Alright, fine,” Jongin grunts, shoving the box at Jongdae, who stumbles slightly with the extra weight.

“Watch it, misfit,” he warns. “If I break my neck again, I’m suing for emotional damage.”

“Whatever,” Jongin mutters, breaking into a sprint to find Baekhyun. He wonders if he’s even getting paid for all the work he did today.

Baekhyun is currently in the stockroom, elbow deep in a pile of women’s shoes.

“Hey,” Jongin says, peeking in.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Baekhyun greets, fishing out a pair of heels out by their straps.

“Um, what are those?”

Baekhyun just looks up and smiles, holding the shoes triumphantly. “When Jessica said she wanted the “bloodiest shoes possible”, I thought she meant Ferragamo. But she _actually_ wanted the Louboutins. Silly me, right?”

“Um, right,” Jongin says. “I need you to dress me for the gala.”

“Oh my god, finally.” Baekhyun turns around and grabs a garment bag right off the hanger. “Here.”

“Did you just have this...waiting for me?”

“Sweetcheeks, I’ve had this suit prepared for _months_. Saint Laurent, satin lapels and wool finish. Not a combo I would usually condone but-”

He winks at Jongin mischievously.

“YSL makes everything work.”

  


The gala venue is a massive ballroom with vaulted ceilings and large industrial windows. The decorations are simple yet insanely elegant, the ambiance grandiose, and honestly, what else was Jongin supposed to expect from something planned by Jessica and Kris?

Once the entire staff actually arrives, there’s really very little to do past arranging the table settings and pointing the caterers in the right direction. Jongin manages to fantastically avoid Kris the entire time but once the guests start rolling in, it gets harder to dodge his boss (former boss?).

Kris is everywhere, greeting attendees with a politician sort of smile, one that Jongin knows he only saves for keeping appearances. He looks amazing, almost regal, wearing a velvet red suit and wire frame glasses, golden tie clip standing out against the dark color.

It’s easy to fall back into admiration but Kris’ sharp presence now brings an entirely new meaning. Knowing what he does about Baekhyun and Kibum, Jongin no longer sees the success and achievement that he used to respect and even fear so much. He sees plotting and scheming, politics and convulsion which only aimed to bring down those who deserved better. He averts his eyes before Kris can catch his gaze. All Jongin has to do is get through this gala, and then he can go back home and forget about everything.

Guests retreat to their tables once the mingling dies down and Jongin gingerly takes his seat, next to Jongdae but two tables away from Kris. Higher management sat up front next to all the A-listers and Jongin can only be thankful that he doesn’t have to be face-to-face with Kris.

The food arrives right when the speechmakers get up on stage, executives from the publisher, celebrities who’ve been cover-featured that year, and finally, Jessica.

“I promise I’m the last, and then you guys can get back to your food,” she jokes, and the crowd erupts with laughter. “Anyways, I’m here to talk about something very special that I’ve been working on.”

A hush falls over the room, anticipating her next words.

“This project has been almost years in the making. Everyone here knows how much of myself I devote to Vogue.” She pauses to look fondly at each and every one of her staff, Jongin included.

“But every good thing must come to an end,” she continues. Jongin swears her eyes are starting to get misty. “It it both to my pleasure and sadness to announce that I will be leaving the publication to work full time with my new fashion brand, which will make its debut next month at Paris Fashion Week!”

_Oh my god, Jessica is leaving Vogue?_

The room goes off in an explosion of applause and Jongin looks around frantically, gauging people’s reactions. Chanyeol is cheering loudly, Baekhyun holds up a glass in celebration, and Kris is, for once in his life, actually _smiling_.

“What is going on?” he whispers in bewilderment.

Jongdae just rolls his eyes. “Maybe you’d be in the loop if you showed up to work for once.”

“I…” Jongin starts, staring at Jessica in awe. “I had no idea.”

The person Kris had been talking about, his friend who was leaving their job...it was _Jessica_.

“Thank you, thank you!” Jessica says, overwhelmed with the clapping. She dabs a napkin on her face, certainly crying now if she wasn’t before. “You guys are amazing! But before I finally get off this stage, there is one more thing that I have to say.”

The crowd quiets down and realization dawns upon Jongin.

_Who is going to replace Jessica?_

“Being creative director is no easy job and the future of Vogue is contingent on whoever comes next. The beneficiary must be dedicated, brilliant, and above all, tenacious enough to deal with Kris Wu.” She breaks into a light laugh and the crowd laughs with her, even Kris. _What the fuck is going on_ , Jongin thinks.

Jessica clears her throat. “My answer was surprisingly simple. I can honestly say that no one deserves this position more.”

She pauses, eyes scanning the crowd as if searching for someone. She takes a deep breath, full of finality.

“My successor will be none other than my faithful assistant of the last four years, Byun Baekhyun!”

A scream that undoubtedly belongs to Baekhyun echoes throughout the room, both hands over his mouth in a startled expression of disbelief.

Jongin finds himself in a similar state of shock, eyes darting to Baekhyun, Jessica, and then Kris. The chief editor looks smug, delighted, and genuinely happy, all at once. That’s all it takes for Jongin to realize that he’s been a complete and total idiot this entire time.

 _Kris had this planned all along_.

Baekhyun is on stage, struggling through an unscripted acceptance speech while crying loudly and happily into the mic. Staff members cheer loudly and Baekhyun sobs again, this time while hugging Jessica. But Jongin doesn’t hear any of it. Everything becomes white noise and all he sees is Kris, getting up from his seat and walking toward Jongin, weaving around tables and getting closer and closer until finally, he’s standing before him. His tall height has never been as imposing as it is now.

Kris shoots him an unreadable look.

“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow, Jongin.”

  


Like the million times he’s done before, Jongin stands nervously in front of Kris’ desk, feeling very small in the huge office. This time is different from the rest, however, because he actually feels sorry for what he did. For what he said.

And the remorse makes it that much worse.

“So?” Kris says, raising a single eyebrow.

Jongin mumbles an apology.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said I’m _sorry_. I’m sorry for misjudging you.”

“Well, that’s one way of saying it.”

Jongin stays silent, waiting for him to continue the backlash.

“Anyways,” Kris finally says. “Do you still want to work here?”

“Yes,” Jongin answers immediately. “If that’s still possible.”

Kris starts laughing. “Okay, good,” he chuckles. “Because Paris Fashion Week is coming up and Jongdae in that neck brace is only half of a person.”

“I heard that!” Jongdae yells from his desk.

Kris smiles. Jongin does too.

He’s just glad to be back.

  


After everything he went through in Milan, Paris Fashion Week is nothing but a cakewalk to Jongin. The only thing that comes as a surprise is Jessica’s show, to which she gifted front row seats for anyone from Vogue who showed up. Jongin finds himself sandwiched between Jongdae and Elie Saab, an odd mixture of awe and pride overcoming him as he sees the models take the runway. Her collection is splendorous and explosive, impetuous with unapologetic boldness and for the first time since working at Vogue, Jongin gets it. He gets it when people talk about life-changing fashion, the ideas and perceptions shaping culture in the form of simple apparel. He gets why Jongdae talks about wool blends and why Baekhyun takes an hour just to pick out shoes. Why Sehun owns three different leather jackets and why Kris cares so much about the right skirt.

Jongin still knows next to nothing about fashion, but even he can tell that Jessica’s launch is going to be the biggest of the season. Taeyeon and Kibum’s partnership had astounded the media, their news plastered to the front of every fashion new site, but Jongin figures that Jessica will probably give them a run for their money.  Pretty soon too, judging by the crowd’s deafening reaction during the final walk. The cheers get impossible louder when Jessica herself appears, bowing in thanks to close the show, and _yeah_ , she’s definitely going nowhere but up.

The entire trip, Jongin finds himself filling two jobs at once. Baekhyun, who’s been so busy with his new position, hasn’t gotten a single chance to interview potential assistants (although that will probably change soon, judging by the number of applications they’ve received). For the meantime, it seems that Kris has temporarily lent his services to Baekhyun (probably because Jongdae will wither and die before referring to Baekhyun as his superior).

Following Baekhyun to shows during the day and making sure Kris has everything he needs in the evening means that Jongin has close to no time at all to actually see Paris. This is supposed to be the _most romantic city in the world_ , but he’ll will believe it when he sees it.

His lucky break comes on Friday, when Kris kicks him out of the hotel (“I’m sick of seeing your face so much!”), and Jongin smiles at the thought of finally spending some time with Sehun. Kris sure has a funny way of telling him he has the night off.

After an appallingly lavish dinner (which Sehun had paid for - definitely a keeper), they take an evening walk along the River Seine, the cool breeze jostling the waters lightly. Jongin feels spoiled and pampered and it has nothing to do with the expensive food they just ate.

They stroll leisurely, Sehun pointing out the Pont Marie, the Grand Palais, and in the far distance, the Eiffel Tower. It’s a pensive sight, standing unaccompanied in the dark night sky, and Jongin sighs. Maybe he’ll come back one day and finally get to see it. They leave in two days and there’s no way he’d be able to carve out enough time to explore the arrondissements. The Eiffel Tower will have to wait in the far future.

“Next time, we’ll walk down the Champs Elysees. We’ll go to the Louvre too.”

“Next time?” Jongin asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Next time,” Sehun nods. “You only got to see the worst parts of Paris this week.”

“Yeah, just the worst,” Jongin snorts. “Celebrities and fashion shows and cocktail parties. Really gross, huh? Marc Jacobs said hi to me and I just puked all over the floor.”

“Absolutely awful,” Sehun agrees, holding back laughter.

“God, shut _up_ ,” Jongin laughs, hitting Sehun’s shoulder but putting no force behind it.

They circle around the light poles and Sehun tugs at his hand, bringing them to sit on the ledge of a fountain. It’s marble and beautiful and _really?_ Jongin thinks. Everything Sehun does just **has** to be amazing and perfect, even his choice of where to _sit down_.

“I have something to tell you,” Sehun says seriously.

“What is it?” Jongin asks, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Relax, I’m not breaking up with you,” Sehun laughs and Jongin just glowers.

“Not funny,” he grumbles.

Sehun clasps both of Jongin’s hands tightly.

“What I wanted to say is that I’m going back to school to finish my degree. I dropped out to pursue modeling but I honestly think I’m done with that part of my life. I’m kind of tired of traveling.”

“Oh my god,” Jongin gasps. “That’s amazing - what are you studying?”

“Journalism,” Sehun grins. “I’m sure you can tell me a thing or two about that.”

“Kind of? Not really,” Jongin says, rolling his eyes. “I have this big scary boss who’s actually a huge teddy bear and I met all these crazy people who seem to think that flower print looks better on them than it does on curtains and I’m pretty sure some of them even worship soy lattes as a religion. But there’s also this really cute guy who models and travels but he just told me that he’s leaving for school and I think I’m going to be sad.”

“Don’t worry,” Sehun reassures, laughing. “I’ll be around. New York University.”

Jongin’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, that’s where I went!”

“I know.” Sehun smiles so hard, his eyes turn into crescents.

“This is great,” Jongin giggles. “I can just tell people that you’re my college boyfriend.”

“You’re so unbelievably embarrassing.”

And then Sehun leans in close, kissing Jongin under the stars and dim street lamps and maybe, Jongin thinks, just maybe, he’ll give Paris a second chance.

Next time.

  


**EPILOGUE**

The clock ticks noon, which means it’s time for lunch, but Jongin makes no move to get up and walk to the cafeteria. Instead, he just waits.

Soon, the elevator doors open and Sehun steps through, sporting a purple NYU sweater and a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, babe,” he says, giving Jongin a kiss on the cheek. “You ready to go eat?”

“Starving, actually.” Jongin grabs his coat.

They’re about to head down the hallway when someone rushes past, almost tripping over his feet. A kid, probably no older than twenty. Jongin doesn’t even remember being that age.

“Whoa, there,” Sehun cautions, putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

Jongin peeks over to get a closer look. The guy’s got a sharp chin, strong brows, and big eyes. Jongin doesn’t know anything about modeling but he does know that Baekhyun would love to style a face like that.

“You alright?” he asks. “Slow down there.”

“I’m sorry,” the kid apologizes. “I think I’m late for an interview.”

“An interview?” Jongin asks, holding out his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Taeyong,” he answers, shaking his hand. “I’m here for an assistant position with the creative director.”

“Oh,” Jongin says. “That’s great. Baekhyun is an amazing guy.”

“He is?” Taeyong asks nervously.

Jongin laughs. “Don’t worry. I used to be in your shoes too. You’ll be just fine.”

He gives Taeyong a reassuring smile.

“I know I was.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know anything about magazines, publication, or fashion. all i did was read the movie script ten thousand times and google random shit. i lived in milan for a semester and chinatown will always have a special place in my heart. i was in paris briefly but i too hope that my future hot model boyfriend will take me back there. fat chance amirite.
> 
> i hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. as always, thank you to postboxinheaven and grungusmungus


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